Beloved
by GuardianEnzo
Summary: Sometimes two spirits are joined in such a way that no obstacles human or spiritual can tear them apart. More then a year has passed since Chagum and Balsa said farewell, but neither has forgotten the other. Will fate allow their paths to cross once more?
1. Prologue

Author's Note:

When I recently finished watching Seirei no Moribito, the first thing I did was curse myself for missing it when it was released. The second thing I did was get inspired. I've watched hundreds of anime I would guess, but none of them really impacted me the way this one did – it's the first that inspired me to write something original and substantive as a result. For all the amazing things Moribito is, what I think it is most of all is a truly beautiful story about two people who come to love each other as parent and child despite coming from unimaginably different circumstances. Balsa and Chagum are what inspired me to write this – I wanted to explore their relationship further and I didn't want to wait ten years for the novels to be translated before doing it.

The story below is set after the events of the second Moribito novel (Guardian of Darkness, just released in English) and it contains a few references to it, but all you'd need to know is pretty much contained in the anime that was based on the first novel. Though the first novel and the anime are mostly identical in terms of plot there are style differences, and I've borrowed a few elements of each for this story. I know this a long story, but I had a lot I wanted to say. I don't write action as well as Production I.G. animates it, so while there is some action here, there's also a lot of character exploration – especially Chagum, Balsa and Tanda. I'm assuming you know who the main characters are but I've included a glossary for some of the minor ones, as well as some of the Japanese words and phrases. When it comes to translations, where the subs and the book differ I've gone with whichever made more sense to me.

And one last thing, about Torogai's hat - with the rabbit (or whatever it was) living in it… It's not in the book and it's basically a sight gag. It's a cute one but I decided to spare myself from trying to describe it, so it's not in the story.

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People:

First, Second, and Third Empresses - Three wives of the emperor or "Mikado". They are ranked by the order in which each bore a son, and live in the First, Second and Third Palaces

Jiguro – Balsa's late father

Jin - Second in command of the Hunters, the Mikado's elite combat and intelligence team

Kainan Nanai: Advisor to Torgal; first Holy Sage of the New Yogo Empire

Mon - Commander of the Hunters

Nimka - Young girl of Toumi Village and granddaughter of Yakue storyteller

Torgal - Founder and first emperor of the New Yogo Empire

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Places:

Aogiri - the "Misty Blue Mountains" which protect Yogo from overland invasion

Aoyumi - Largest river in Yogo, flowing from the Aogiri and through Ougi. Balsa rescued Chagum when he fell from his carriage into the Aogiri at the beginning of Seirei no Moribito

Kanbal - Balsa's homeland, on the far side of the Aogiri. Cold, barren and poor compared to Yogo

Ougi - Capitol city of Yogo; Lower Ougi is the "working-class" neighborhood

Rota - Small kingdom neighboring Yogo; known for aggressive personality of its citizens

Toumi Village - Remote Yakue village high in Aogiri mountains, home of Tanda's grandfather

Yashiro Village - Yakue Village in the foothills

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Terms:

Bo - A wooden spear, often used for sparring or practice

Geta - Simple sandals designed for outdoor wear

Gisho - Yakue bean dish traditionally served to celebrate a man becoming a husband/father

Kotora - Tiger cub, or "little tiger"

Nemaki - Pajamas or "house robes"

Ninomiya - Second, as in "Second "Palace"

Nightingale Floor - A floor designed to make a chirping "nightingale" noise when walked upon, to warn of invaders

Nyunga Ro Chaga_ –_ Guardian of the water spirit (Chagum was the most recent)

Oba-san -Aunt

Otouto - Little brother

Porak - Rota martial art, developed on the battlefield

Rucha - Yogo martial art, developed for recreation for farmers

Rugal – Unit of currency in Yogo

Samue - Simple, comfortable peasant or monastic clothing. "Work clothes"

Shochu - Japanese distilled barley spirit

Sugegasa - Wide-brimmed hat, traditionally used by farm laborers for sun or rain protection

Tendo - Yogo ideal of "truth" as divined from the stars and other divining methods

Yamabime - A fruit much-loved by the Yakue (especially Torogai, apparently)

Yamaimo - Japanese mountain potato, a type of yam

Yojimbo – Bodyguard

_Yona Ro Gai __– The water people of Nayug_

Yukata - A cool cotton kimono, usually worn in summer and more simply decorated

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Lyrics to "Itoshii Hito e (Beloved)" are by Tainaka Sachi

Lyrics to "Shine" are by L'Arc-en-Ciel

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**PROLOGUE**

**.**

The summer sun shone brilliantly overhead, causing the jade leaves of the cherry trees and cobalt ponds of the imperial grounds to radiate an almost preternatural glow. The Misty Blue Mountains far off in the distance did not live up to their name on this day, even their highest white-tipped pinnacles clearly visible from the palace grounds. In the vast plain between the peaks of the Aoigiri and the smaller but more lush eastern range, _Ougi__-_no-Shimo sprawled in a bustling span of small shops and huts on the far side of the Aoyumi River, stretching into the rice terraces at the foot of the mountains.

Among the trees in the west garden a boy sat on a small, arched bridge spanning a tiny pond, legs dangling over the side. He was small still, clearly a child – hair tied back in a ponytail and dressed in a summer yukata of white and vermillion, simple in design though fringed at the cuffs and sleeves with gold. There was a depth and intelligence to his eyes and stern set to his face, however, that looked out of place in one so young. And where his forearms emerged from his sleeves there was a surprising ripple of corded muscle.

The piercing blue eyes were fixed firmly on the silent waters of the little pond, perhaps following the mottled koi that swam purposefully below its surface. The eyes took in none of the majesty of the mountains and paddies that spread out below the hillside perch on which the palace sat, and certainly not the distant bustle of the town. The eyes _never_ looked there – not when the boy could help it. And when the robed, sad-faced young man with long, silver hair approached to inform him that he could no longer delay the audience with his father, a glint of moisture was reflected in the depths of their cool blue brilliance.

***

Though far, far too distant for the eyes of a child in the Imperial Palace to discern even had they been directed towards the Aogiri, a lone figure was moving among the mountains. The high pass that cut through them and offered the only overland route to the Yogo Peninsula was cold, even in midsummer. Wind screamed down through the pass, carrying the bitter chill of the glacial heights with it. For the woman that moved along the Kanbal road today, however, such things were a trivial matter. Raised as she had been in the harsh landscapes of that distant land, the air felt almost balmy – though for even a hardened warrior like herself the pass would have been impassible in any other season, the journey suicide.

In sharp contrast to the small figure of the boy in the valley far below, the woman was dressed in simple, utilitarian attire – faded, red woolen cloak and leggings, rough boots, a sturdy pack across her broad shoulders. Her face was rough and chapped by the wind, cheeks reddened. Fine lines spider-webbed at the corners of her eyes – eyes which were dark and intelligent, seeming to contain a latent fire which might burst forth at any moment. And on her back, a spear – tied in place and capped by a leather scabbard.

She knew the route well by now – she had travelled it several times since her early childhood. Every crag was increasingly familiar, every switchback an old companion as she drew closer to the cut in the rock where the Kanbal road would break through the Misty Blue range and her eyes would fall on the vast, fertile land on their far side. When at last the final switchback was behind her and the air beginning to take on the scent of green, she knew the end of her journey was near.

The warrior stood, impassively gazing down at the Yogo below, closing her eyes after a moment to the sound of prayer flags whipping and the feel the warm wind rising off the plains, a sharp contrast to the icy gusts of the Aogiri. When she opened her eyes it was to a view that she had beheld many times before, as child and adult, at the close of this journey. This time, however, the view seemed different, _felt _different – though the paddies and lakes and distant palaces were as familiar as the feel of her spear in her hand. Now, the water that nourished the rice and the green of the trees held a power it had never held for the woman before, and the pagodas of the palaces seemed somehow more remote and hostile. As she took in the scene before her, the warrior was surprised to feel a tickle of wetness at the corners of her eyes.


	2. Bamboo Blinds

**BELOVED**

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**PART I**

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**CHAGUM**

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**.**

_**Hugging my knees, I forced back the tears, alone.**_

_** I nearly succumb to the overwhelming fear tonight.**_

_** For as long as I can remember, you were always at my side. **_

_**No one else but you.**_

_**.**_

_**I want to be strong, **_

_**Praying for strength, I stumble again and hurt myself.**_

_** But I can stand back up, because I have you to believe in.**_

_**.**_

_**Thank you, **_

_**Is all I want to tell the one I love.**_

_** Over and over again as long as my voice will allow.**_

_**.  
**_

_**To my one and only beloved,**_

_** Can you hear me?**_

_**In this ephemeral world, and unchanging human warmth, **_

_**I feel your presence, Beloved.**_

_**.  
**_

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**.**

Chagum, Son of Heaven and Crown Prince of the New Yogo Empire, despised the long walk to his father's chambers. He despised the nightingale floor under his feet, singing out its warning of imagined enemies snuck into the Imperial Palace. Despised the stale smell of old incense and wood smoke that had permeated it's walls, the acrid reek of the lanolin used to wax the boards and in the production of the tapestries that hung on either side of the grand hallway. No matter how warm the day outside, Chagum always felt cold in this place, always had – as if he were on a passage to the underworld, leaving the warmth of his body behind forever.

There had been a time, long ago – and it didn't require a mountain of time to feel "long ago" to a boy of thirteen – when what the Crown Prince had despised about the hall at the end of his journey was the bamboo screen that separated him from his father. The boy could remember in vivid detail the frustration at being so close to his father - the power of his desire to reach out and touch the man who had given him life – and yet kept at a distance by the flimsy barrier. Even as a small child Chagum had implicitly understood the symbolism of the screen, a thin mesh of blinds that would not have kept out a determined little boy, never mind an assassin. The Mikado was forever separate from other mere humans, even those of his own family. The barrier rose only when the Emperor chose to raise it.

There had been warmth in his father's voice once, Chagum remembered. Despite the formal structure of their communications, the Mikado had often seemed glad to see him. To praise him for excellent studies or the completion of a court ritual. At these moments Chagum yearned to see his father's face, to see if his eyes would corroborate what his ears detected. But it never happened. On the rare occasions when the Mikado raised the screen it was always for a scolding, the only reason important enough, it seemed, to show the boy his visage in its full imperial splendor. Those scoldings were usually followed by an order of punishment to one of Chagum's chamberlains, a thrashing to be carried out later – never in the Mikado's presence - that inevitably left the boy in tears and not anxious to sit down for the rest of the day.

Not that Chagum had often given the Mikado a reason to order him punished – he'd been a good prince, even he had to admit. Obedient. He studied hard and learned his lessons quickly and adroitly, rarely spoke back to his tutors bar the occasional debate over philosophy or the like. Sometimes Sagum, his elder brother by four years, had spoken for him and deflected blame, sparing him punishment. And on those occasions where he did face the stick, he'd never complained or cried tears of frustration – it was the way of the Yogo Empire that young royals were not exempt from such things. He had cried because he felt he'd let his father down, and the Mikado's disappointment in him was by far the cruelest part of any of the punishments he received.

All of that seemed like a distant dream now. A dream of some other boy and some other father, in some far-off kingdom.

Chagum was glad of the bamboo now. Dreaded the moments when his father would order it raised and he would have to compose himself, to hide the frustration and anger and sometimes the tears that showed on his face. Worst of all, when his father would command him to meet his eye and Chagum would see naught but icy indifference there. That indifference was worse than the scoldings and admonishments that accompanied it, worse than the orders of punishment and even the punishments themselves.

The blinds were always lowered, of course, when Chagum made his way into the audience chamber and bowed his head to the ground before the Mikado, Shuga a pace or two behind and to his right. His father was a shadow to the boy, real and tangible only a few strides away, but strangely dreamlike and impermanent through the partition.

The wait was first. The Mikado always made Chagum wait now before he spoke – sometimes for a moment or two, sometimes for what felt like several minutes, though the Crown Prince was never sure of time in that place. If the wait did stretch on, he always felt a drop of perspiration form on the back of his neck and slowly tickle its way down his back, despite the feeling of chill that blanketed him.

"What news do you have of your studies?" the Mikado's voice boomed out without preamble, causing Chagum to start.

The Crown Prince gathered his breath quickly. "They progress well, Your Majesty."

"Master Shuga?"

"The Crown Prince has mastered the fourth level of taxonomical classifications, Your Majesty, as well as the second levels of stellar navigation and naval strategy. His teachers report that he is obedient and continues to produce outstanding work."

"Do you concur?"

"I do, Your Majesty."

"Indeed. That is acceptable." There was a long moment of silence. "We are pleased that _someone_ finds you obedient."

Chagum tensed, fighting the temptation to raise his head. "Thank you, Majesty."

"Indeed. Your mind seems well-suited for such academic pursuits, Prince Chagum. What a pity it is not so well-suited for affairs of state, apparently."

"I beg forgiveness most humbly, Your Majesty. I will attempt to do better."

"We are skeptical." There was a grandiose sigh from behind the bamboo. "We are displeased that you do not appear to accept your responsibilities as Crown Prince with the seriousness that they require."

"I beg-"

"Silence!" Chagum could feel more clammy trickles on his back. The boy could hear the sound of the bamboo divider being raised, agonizingly slowly. "Raise your head, Prince Chagum, and look at us."

Chagum raised his head and winced under the cold, impassive stare that met his gaze. "We are grievous disappointed that Prince Sagum was not blessed with the robust health that has blessed you, _Crown_ Prince. We wonder if you appreciate the gravity of the role that has fallen to you, and why you do not comport yourself with the same manner of humility and obedience that he did." The Mikado stared fiercely into his eyes as he paused. "We are most fearful that unhealthy influences have caused you to lose your sense of your place."

The Crown Prince felt a shiver, unbidden, begin to run through his small frame. "I will attempt must humbly to please you better, Your Majesty."

"Indeed you will. Chamberlain!"

"Your will, Majesty?"

The Mikado still held Chagum's eyes, unblinking and unwavering. "The matter of the Crown Prince's obedience concerns us greatly. Please see to it that he is amply aware of our displeasure."

There was a quaver in the Chamberlain's response. "It will be as you command, Majesty."

Chagum could not look away from the Mikado's eyes, even had he been willing to openly flout protocol by doing so. He felt as it he were frozen in place as the bamboo blinds slowly began to lower and transform the face he knew so well into indistinct shadow. He swore he could feel the eyes continuing to bore through him, even behind the barrier, and the low tingle of dread began to build in his stomach.

But worst of all was that Chagum knew that as he stared at the blinds, he was staring into his own future.

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"Highness, are you all right?"

"I'm fine, Shuga. Don't concern yourself." The Crown Prince gingerly eased into a kneeling position before the table in his chambers, hands shaking slightly as he raised the steaming cup of chrysanthemum tea to his lips and drawing a slow sip.

Shuga hovered behind him in that irritating way of his, always just outside Chagum's field of vision but close enough that the boy could hear him breathe. Experienced courtiers had a way, somehow, of blending into the background until he called for them. It was a skill the awkward star diviner had never mastered and was probably unaware of altogether. "Prince Chagum, I worry for you."

"I know. I told you – I'm fine. It's nothing to concern yourself over."

"But Highness!" The pain in Shuga's voice was apparent – impassivity another court skill the young man had not mastered. "It wounds me deeply to see you suffer in this way. Can you not… Must you _provoke_ His Majesty the way you do?"

"I do not provoke!" the boy snapped, his voice rising shrilly.

"I apologize, Lord." Shuga stammered, bowing. "I did not mean-"

"Its fine, Shuga." Chagum sighed. Irritating though the star diviner's doting concern was at times, Chagum instantly regretted the outburst. There were so few at court who showed any real affection for him now – affection for _him, _and not the Crown Prince – and Shuga's affection was undeniably genuine. The boy felt a stab of pity in his heart for Shuga. And gratitude.

"I only meant, Highness, that it sometimes appears that you will say and do things though you know full well they will displease the Mikado. Even the way you choose to wear your hair in his presence."

Chagum sipped his tea and smiled crookedly up at his chief tutor. "To knowingly disobey the Mikado would be treason, would it not, Star Diviner?"

Shuga's mouth opened in shock for a second or two, then his face softened into a mixture of irritation and affection at the smile on his young charge's face. "You should not joke about such things, Highness. Nanai-sama himself only knows where you developed that barbed tongue."

Chagum knew full well where, and he suspected his tutor did too. As always, the thought pained him more than any of the Mikado's punishments. "Again, I'm sorry, Shuga."

"Highness…" Shuga knelt next to him and rested a hand on his shoulder, a familiarity that would have been an affront if it had come from almost anyone else at court. "There is now no one else here!" The two silent attendants framing the doorway of the Prince's chambers veiled their faces. "Prince Chagum – would it really be so difficult for you to please your father?"

"Do you think I don't try, Shuga?"

"I wonder. To openly argue against his wishes at council the way you did-"

"What choice did I have?" Chagum interrupted, irritated at hearing his voice rise in pitch once again. "To raise the tax on millet by two rugals for every bushel – and _three_ rugals for rice! All but the wealthy will struggle to clothe their families!"

"You exaggerate, Highness. The taxation of crops has always been-"

"I do _not _exaggerate, Shuga. Two rugals is a small fortune to most farmers. This increase is nothing but greed on my father's part."

"You know that improvements to the royal defenses need to be made-"

"So he says." the boy muttered. "We've never taxed their crops at this level, Shuga – you know this is true. His Majesty's decision does not make sense. Few of them do lately."

"Prince Chagum!" The star diviner was genuinely shocked, and the boy wondered if he'd finally spoken too plainly. "His is the divine hand operating on this earth!"

"I know." _The_ _divine hand which ordered my death, _Chagum thought bitterly. He'd forgiven that, understood it and even moved past it – as much as anyone could. But not all that had come after. "Shuga, do you believe my father is well?"

"Well, Highness?"

"He seems… odd. You speak of provocation, but it's _he_ who provokes me! Forces me to execute commands he knows I find detestable. Acts with no regard to the welfare of the people. Demeans and mocks… The people I lived among during my… exile. I feel like he's doing it deliberately. To hurt me."

There was a long moment of awkward silence in the chamber. "I cannot conceive of such things, Prince Chagum. "

"He didn't even let me attend the funeral of my own mother! How could he have not let me return from the mountain palace? He said he was concerned for my safety, but…"

"Do you doubt this, Highness? There was still the fear that her death could have been the work of assassins. For you to embark on a return journey at such a time-"

"So he said in his message." The boy whispered, eyes closed tightly. His own mother, committed to the earth – and he not there to see her off. And never having said his goodbyes to her at that. _I will not cry_. He thought bitterly. _Not again_.

"You must have faith in the divine hand, Highness."

_To hurt me – or to test me_? It was all more than he wanted to think about. "I think I'll have my bath now, Shuga. The warm water soothes my bruises."

Shuga's voice caught in his throat. "Yes, Highness. I will send for your pages."

"Can't I just go in the baths alone, for once?" Chagum held up his hand, cutting off the star diviner's protest. "Never mind, Shuga – I already know the answer."

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The heat of the day had faded into a balmy twilight as the Crown Prince walked from the bathhouse to his bed chamber. As always, the hot waters and minerals had soothed the worst of the pains from his punishment, and the worst of the tension from his shoulders. Perhaps tonight he might at least get a few hours of restful sleep. It was never easy these days to tell what might happen when he closed his eyes.

Once he was finally granted the illusion of being alone, the two guards outside his door invisible and silent and his pages sent off early to their own chambers, the boy allowed himself to relax a little. He knelt next to his futon and breathed slowly, evenly – breathed as he'd been taught to in order to calm and center his energies. As _she_ had taught him. _In, four. Hold, seven. Out, eight. Again. Again_… The images came unwanted into his mind – his father's cold eyes as they ridiculed him. The increasing swell in the belly of the Third Empress when she'd crossed paths with him on her way to her own audience with the Mikado. The sad, shame-faced expression of his chamberlain as he bowed to Chagum after carrying out the Mikado's ordered discipline_. In, four. Hold, seven. Out, eight_…

When he felt his mind had sufficiently cleared, Chagum rose to his feet with a grunt and slipped his _nemaki_ off his shoulders, freeing his arms and savoring the feel of the night air on his chest. Now, at last, enshrined in near darkness with only a few candles illuminating his large sleeping chamber, he felt alive – free of the tomb that housed his father. The boy smiled as he stretched, felt the lithe power in his muscles as he worked them. He reached behind his bed for the wooden _bo_ he kept there, felt its weight in his hands. The room was silent bar the distant chirp of crickets and the even rhythm of his own breaths.

Now, only now as he took his stance, did the boy allow himself to picture Balsa's face in his mind's eye. The memory belonged to him, and no one else – it was not to be despoiled by recalling it in anyone else's presence. It was his. Every small wrinkle and curve of her face was clear as day in his mind, her voice as she roughly directed his movements as real as if she were in the room with him. Chagum silently went through his drills, one by one – point, pull, push, parry, swing, roll, dodge… A veneer of perspiration began to form on his body and he felt strong, fearless, proud – he could sense her approval.

"I can hear you." He whispered as he responded to her commands. Balsa was there with him in that moment, encouraging and demanding and pushing him to sharpen each movement a little more than the last time, each response a little quicker, each transition more seamless. But the alchemy was limited, a conjuring trick – almost as soon as he felt himself entering a perfect state of concentration he began to feel Balsa slipping away. And when his body tired and it was over and he stood, breathing heavily, arms aching from the weight of the heavy _bo_, she was gone.

With a sigh, Chagum returned the _bo_ to its place, carefully wiping his perspiration from its handle with a cloth before doing the same to his face. He shrugged the nemaki back into place and fell into bed. She was gone again, but his mind at least more or less clear of unbidden thoughts for the moment. Closing his eyes, the Crown Prince quickly fell into an exhausted sleep.

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Shuga wondered, as he often did, whether he was the only soul awake in the Star Palace as he strode towards his chambers, a handful of scrolls under his arm. The silence was complete and not a living soul, human or animal, was seen to be about. Of course he knew, intellectually, that this could not be the case. Much of great value to the empire was here – not least of which the bulk of its brightest researchers and diviners. Soldiers were all around him, he knew, doing what soldiers did – slipping silently into shadows and waiting for the moment when they might be asked to kill for the empire.

It was fascinating, the tricks the mind played. Here he was, a man of science, intellect – but his mind still tried to convince him he was alone merely because his _senses _could discern no one else. _Are we really as different from the beasts as we think we are_? He wondered. And in the wondering found the thought oddly disturbing.

The star diviner had been plagued by disturbed thoughts much of late. While there were the obvious reasons – death had seemed to form an attachment to the royal family like an unwelcome guest – there were subtler and more profound reasons for his disquiet. Chagum had changed. While he was still a child, his time away from the palace had matured him in many ways. Too much, Shuga felt quite strongly.

Where was the cheerful, bright boy who had gleefully absorbed all that Shuga could teach him? Shuga had gained great prestige due to his success as the Second Prince's chief tutor but, truth be told, it was the prince himself who was responsible for his academic achievements. His mind was sharp and clear, unclouded by false assumptions and artificial limits of perception. The child could see far and clearly, and remembered everything he learned.

There had been no change in the keenness of the Crown Prince's mind, of that Shuga was certain. That mind was always active, deep in thought – but often far away. The star diviner rarely acted as a tutor now, in point of fact – more often as a counselor and a voice of caution. Some of it was age, of course – Chagum was thirteen now and everything was more complicated. But it was more. There was a weight to him that had not been there before - a sadness that had been there even while his mother still lived.

And then there were the boy's constant disputes with his father. Disputes the boy could never win, of course – and Chagum was certainly smart enough to understand that. But still he persisted, angering the Mikado and bringing down a rain of disdain on his narrow shoulders. Most disturbing to Shuga was that the boy was more perceptive than anyone – he still saw far and clearly, more than a child his age had any right to. And indeed, there was something different to the Mikado.

Even to think such thoughts, of course, was treason. The Mikado was the divine hand of the Gods acting on the Earth. He was, by his very nature, infallible. So why did Shuga think them? It was fascinating, the tricks the mind played.

At last the star diviner reached his study, pushing thoughts of treason from his mind as he closed his door behind him. He pushed the Mikado and Chagum and the events of politics far from his consciousness and prepared himself for the pursuit of pure knowledge – once the meat of his daily existence, now a luxury for the small hours far out of the sight of prying eyes.

"What have you brought me tonight, boy?"

Shuga smiled at the small figure seated at his study table. "Master Torogai. Prompt, as always."

"I can be as prompt as anyone if I'm going somewhere I want to go." The old shaman snapped, puffing on her pipe. "What've you got there?"

"Kainan Nanai's recollections of the creation stories of the Southern Kingdoms. They were transcribed from the sacred tomes by Gakai in the days before the end of the _Nyunga Ro Chaga's_ journey_."_

_"Chagum's _journey, you mean."

"Of course."

"How is that kid, anyway?"

Shuga looked away. It was pointless trying to hide anything from the old shaman, who understood more from words unspoken than others did from the words themselves. Still – it was a conversation he did not wish to have with an outsider, no matter how learned. "His mind is sharp and keen, and his body grows stronger every day."

"Of course." Torogai sighed. "It's a shame I can't talk to him – I'd love to see if he's remembered anything about how that egg got inside him. But I guess it's best not to take chances – kids will talk, won't they?"

"As we agreed – he cannot know of your visits here." Shuga set the scrolls down at the table and smiled for the first time all day. "I believe it is my turn to go first, is it not?"

"Is it? I thought it was mine."

"What will you tell me of this night, Master?"

The old woman puffed deeply at her pipe and rubbed her stubbly chin thoughtfully. "Have I told you of the Yakue rituals of fertility yet?"

"Indeed, no. I am sure I would remember."

"Well, then. Best break out the rice wine, boy. This is a good story, but a long one…"_  
_


	3. Family

_It was so good to be free of most of his retainers – though certainly not all – that Chagum felt almost happy. The air around him was clean and crisp, the scent of pine and the sound of birdsong thick in the air. It conspired to take his mind on a journey, to another place and another time that felt so far away now._

_There were four guards stationed at the palace gate, faces mostly hidden by their helmets, but as Chagum approached the gate, hiking stick in hand, his eyes met those of the guard immediately to the left of the main archway. In a flash, he knew the man as Jin, of the Hunters. Unbidden a smile rose to his face and he could see the young man start to respond before catching himself._

Of course_. Chagum thought. _The Gods forbid he should acknowledge my presence_. The boy occasionally saw one of the eight hunters near to his location, posing as any other member of the royal guard. There was history between them, those men and the boy – it wasn't so surprising that they should be secreted among his contingent to keep an eye on him. What stories they would be able to share, if only such things were allowed._

_The Crown Prince passed through the arched entryway and out into the forest, two of his pages scurrying to keep up. He saw two of the guards, Jin among them, pass through the gate and take up positions a few yards on either side of where he walked. The boy sighed and shook his head."Can't I just have a little hike on my own?" Met with silence, he smiled ruefully. "Nothing? Oh, well – only four today, that's almost like being on my own."_

_Determined not to let the others' presence ruin his enjoyment at being out in the woods at last, Chagum, swerved off the path and towards the little knob a peak that rose like a bald head a few hundred yards above the trail. There was a general racket of brush and sharp intakes of breath as the two little pages scrambled after him, the guards silently matching his pace. To Chagum's trained ear the difference between the two men was obvious – the royal guardsman plowed through the undergrowth loudly, beginning to breathe heavily in his heavy battle gear. Jin, on the other hand, sliced through the brush silently, like a boat across a calm lake._

"_Prince Chagum!"_

_The boy groaned audibly at the sound of Shuga's voice from behind them. It was a miracle, really that he'd managed to get as close as he had to the little mountain that had been tempting him since his arrival. It would have been a good test of his fitness. Now that was finished, though – Shuga would surely forbid him from attempting to climb it. _

Well – let him forbid_. Chagum scowled. What if he just kept going? Would Jin stop him by force? The boy rather doubted it. _

"_Your Highness- stop immediately! We must speak at once."_

"_Why?" The Crown Prince shouted back in an irritated whine. "Will my father know? Will my lessons not wait an hour?"_

"_Highness – please!" Chagum could hear the star diviner breathing loudly as he rushed after the little party._

"_Your Highness-" Jin began._

"_I know." Chagum sighed. He stopped and turned to wait, determined to at least make the young man come to him. Shuga was sure to admonish him for his irresponsibility, and there was no point in hurrying that anyway._

"_Higheness…" Shuga's face as he finally crashed through a bush and caught up to them was not at all what the boy had expected. Instead of anger, the young man's eyes were red and shimmering, and his hands were clenching and unclenching at his sides. His robes disheveled and leaves and burrs stuck in his long white hair, Shuga was a sight Chagum would have found funny at another time – but there was heavy tension in the air that almost took his voice away. "Prince Chagum…"_

"_What?" the boy whispered. "Speak, Shuga."_

"_Prince… I… We have just received a messenger from the Imperial Court."_

_Chagum felt his stomach lurch and his throat catch. "Messenger?"_

"_Highness, it…is your mother. The Second Empress."_

"_What of my mother?!" Chagum grabbed the star diviner's slender arm, his grip powerful. "Speak at once! What of Mother?"_

"_She… There has been an incident, Prince Chagum. She fell ill at breakfast yesterday and…"_

"_Shuga!"_

_The young man swallowed deeply and stared at his feet. "She has… She walks in heaven now, Your Highness."_

_Chagum felt a rising wave in his ears, as if he had submerged his head in cold water, and the world receded away. He could hear voices and the clack of his hiking stick hitting the ground, but only as though from a great distance. Then another voice joined them, his own.. "Mother…"_

_He was dimly aware that he was no longer standing, for an instant the ground seemed to be rushing towards him and then he was still again. A frightened face stared down at him. It was Jin's face, and the Hunter's arms held him tenderly a few feet above the ground. "Your Highness! Can you speak? Highness!"_

"_Mother." _

Chagum woke with a start, the word echoing in his ears.

He sat up in bed quickly, panting. The boy could hear the guards at his door shuffling awkwardly, unsure whether to come to him in his chamber or leave him be.

The Crown Prince covered his face with both hands and sat perfectly still, forcing himself to breathe through his nose. He tried to call Balsa's face into his mind but it would not come, though her voice was there – telling him to breathe. He willed himself to listen and obey, to concentrate on the counts in his mind, to ignore the beating of his heart and hear only the soothing sounds of the air entering and leaving his body.

After a time – the boy could not have said for certain whether it was a moment or an hour – he pulled his hands away and opened his eyes. The lanterns were dimmed in the hallway outside his chamber and he could hear the distant passage of feet – it was morning. Daylight, anyway. With a groan, the boy swung his legs over the side of his futon and stood on somewhat unsteady legs.

When he arrived bleary-eyed at his dining hall he was surprised to find the First Empress – Sagum's mother – drinking tea at his table. "Mina!' She smiled at him. "I mean – Your Majesty. Sorry!"

"Prince Chagum. I am sorry to disturb your breakfast – I had thought you might be nearer to finished when I arrived."

"I.. Sorry. I didn't sleep well." Chagum knelt at the far end of the table and accepted a warm cloth from one of his dining attendants. "Are you well, Your Majesty?"

"Well enough." The First Empress was a rare sight since the passing of her son – Chagum rarely remembered seeing her outside of formal events, and even more rarely did she visit the Ninomiya Palace. She was an attractive woman of perhaps thirty-five years, with jet black hair and a sharply angled nose. She was tall and sharply angled generally – even kneeling she was tall – and Chagum could see that though always thin, she had lost weight. "You do indeed look tired, "Prince Chagum."

"I'm fine." The boy forced a smile. "Shuga works me too hard."

"Does he now? I rather doubt that."

"Well – maybe not." Chagum sipped his tea. It felt odd to be sitting, making casual conversation with this grown-up woman who had never been more than a distant presence in his life. "Was there something you wanted, Your Majesty?"

The Empress looked about the room. "Your mother was a fine woman, Highness. I thought very highly of her."

"Thank you."

"This palace seems very lonely to me without her presence. She was a warm person, your mother." She smiled. "Especially when it came to her son."

Chagum nodded awkwardly. The subtleties of the various empresses' relationships had always been a mystery to him. "Thank you."

"Prince Chagum, I… You seem very alone to me here, Your Highness. Still so young – do you not get lonely?"

The boy stared, deeply surprised at the turn in the conversation. "Not really. I have Shuga and my other tutors… And all of my retainers and pages. It's a lot." He smiled. "I'm fine. I eat my meals and have a bath every day, if that's what you mean."

"Of course." The First Empress nodded, returning his smile. "Forgive my intrusion – I do not mean to pry. I only thought… Thought you should know that you would be most welcome if you should choose to come to the Ichinomiya Palace. To live."

Chagum's jaw dropped in surprise. "What?"

"I would be greatly pleased for the company, Prince Chagum. It would also please your father. You are the Crown Prince now, Your Highness – this is the Second Palace, but there is no Second Empress, and no Second Prince. Would it not be better to-"

"This is my home." Chagum interrupted. "My mother's home – she rebuilt it for me, after my… My return. I don't want to see it empty."

The First Empress met his eyes across the table, staring intently. "Prince Chagum, I… I implore of you to consider, it is very important that you please His Majesty. His is the Divine Hand. I worry for you, Prince Chagum. That is all."

"I appreciate your worry, Majesty. But I'm fine, as I said. I'm very happy here."

"Are you, indeed." The woman sighed. "It is only that I worry for you, Prince. That is all – forgive me a woman's irrational feelings." She rose with immense grace, refusing the hand offered to her by her attendant, and crossed to where Chagum knelt. She let her hand rest atop his head, just for a moment. "Will you not reconsider?"

"I… I don't think so, Majesty. I'm grateful though."

"Prince Chagum… As you wish." The woman smiled sadly and bowed. "Do consider what I have said, I beg of you. Try and please him – try not to anger him. His anger is…is…" She closed her eyes for a moment, composed herself and smiled again. "His is the Divine hand." With that, she turned and slowly walked out of the chamber, attendants in lock-step a few paces behind her, leaving Chagum feeling confused and unsettled.

****************************************************************************

"Jin."

"Sir."

"How do you fare tonight?"

'Well enough." The younger of the two Hunters accepted a mug of rice wine from the other and sat next to him at the long table in the garrison kitchen. "How fare you?"

"I ache." The older Hunter grumbled. "I've given my youth to this service. Enjoy yours while you still have it."

The two men ate in silence for several moments, slurping down the thick stew of mountain vegetables and rice that usually constituted their dinner when they were pulling night duty. Finally, Mon took a long swig from his wine and pushed back his chair. "Where do they have you posted tomorrow?"

"Patrolling the north road."

Mon grunted and ran a hand through his thinning black hair. "Should be uneventful."

"What, you fear no great army of Rota on our doorstep?"

Mon glared at him, the scar over his right eye shining in the candlelight. "What I fear is my own concern." He took a swig of wine. "Do you want to return to the Crown Prince's squad again when that's over?"

"If it's possible." Jin said softly.

"I'll see what I can do."

"Thanks."

"Jin… Don't forget who it is that we serve."

The younger Hunter raised an eyebrow. "After all we've seen, you feel the need to remind me of my duty, Sir?"

Mon scowled. "Don't play games with me. I thought you were supposed to be the smart one."

"I never forget. I just… Worry." As ever the least impassive of the hunters, Jin's unlined face was clouded by shadow.

"Worry about your duty. Not your job to worry about anything else."

"Easy to say." Jin mumbled. He finished his wine and sighed. "Sir, can you honestly tell me that you sleep well at night?"

"Jin-"

"_Can_ you? It's a simple question."

"I sleep. And you should, too. Our fathers and their father's fathers gave everything so that you and I could fulfill our divine responsibility."

"Just get me returned to the Prince's detail, all right? I just want to keep an eye on him, that's all. Isn't that duty enough?"

"I told you I would, didn't I?" Mon shook his head. "You always thought too much. You should be thinking about finding a woman and having a son of your own – you have a responsibility. And you aren't getting any younger, either."

"I thought I still had my youth?"

"Well – compared to me, maybe. But in the eyes of a woman…"

"Enough, Sir. I get it." Jin growled. He thought about refilling his cup, decided against it. "I envy her, you know?"

"Who?"

"You know who."

"Jin-"

"Would that I could just fight for the things I want to fight for. For _who_ I want to fight for. And to not know the things I know." The young man rubbed his eyes wearily. "That would be a luxury indeed."

"You owe no one any apologies, Jin. Least of all the Prince." Mon clapped the younger man on the shoulder. "We are His eyes and ears, Jin – we are the sword in His divine hand. At the end of the day, that's all we are."

"I know." Jin stood, clasped the other man's hand briefly. "I'm weary. Go home to your family, Sir. I'm going to try and sleep." The young Hunter held up his fist in a salute and disappeared into the night.

************************************************************************

There was a hint of cool in the air now, very early in the mornings. Just a hint and no more, quickly giving way to summer warmth as the sun crested the roof of the East Pavilion. But enough to make Prince Chagum feel the passage of the seasons beginning to gather in the far distance.

It was odd, but Chagum felt as if he were more sensitive to such things now than he had been as a child. The boy could offer no rational explanation for it, but he could feel things – _sense_ things – that he'd been oblivious to before… before everything. A change in the weather perhaps, or the nature of a plant or animal he'd never seen or read about in any of his texts.

The early mornings could be the best times of the day – that is, if Chagum could wrench himself out of bed early enough to enjoy them. To his great frustration if he drowsily ordered his pages to leave him sleep for a while, they obeyed, unless he had some pressing engagement - in which case Shuga would usually wake the boy himself. This was infuriating, since he always regretted it later. Once the day began, even the illusion of privacy was denied him from breakfast until he was in his bedchamber at night.

Of course the Prince did not blame the attendants – he was well aware that he seemed almost formidable when he wanted sleep, and was usually terribly curt in his demands for more. He regretted that curtness, too, but not as much as the lost opportunity for a few moments of solitude and exercise in the South Garden, his guards at a discreet distance and out of sight.

Once awake, the boy loved to wander in the garden. At this time of year, the air was full of song and the baby birds were beginning to leave their nests. These were now dangerous, loud and crowded places where their constant chirping for food caught the attention of every fox, raptor and cat in the area. Occasionally the prince found a baby on the ground beneath a nest - a heart-wrenching moment when, as a small boy who knew no better, he would always want to take the bird in hand the way he had the wounded Nahji he'd discovered. Now Chagum knew better, of course – the babies were babies no more, but fledglings – and their best chance at life was not in his palace but in the bushes and shrubs where their parents coaxed them to hide until they could fend for themselves.

With no functions to attend to and no servants hovering Chagum was free to don his cool summer yukata for a while before changing for breakfast. With the weight of heavy royal garments and the sound of other voices absent, if he closed his eyes and allowed himself, Chagum could almost imagine he was standing outside Hunter's Cave early in the morning in his _samue_. Before the snows came, and the air wasn't yet thick with chill, just pleasantly cool. The only sounds the song of birds gathering food and perhaps Tanda whistling as he gathered herbs nearby.

The Crown Prince slipped off his _geta_ and relished the feel of the soft grass under his bare feet. This was the time for focusing of energy, for simple stretches and exercises to help his growing muscles develop. The boy giggled at the memory of a friendly jape about his child's physique from Balsa, and idly wished she could see him now and be proud of how he'd grown. Then, slowly, he settled to the ground and began to raise and lower his weight with his left arm. .

Twenty times he repeated this, grunting from exertion by the last, before switching to the right arm and repeating the process. This was easier – this was his stronger arm, his lead spear arm, but Balsa had taught him that he must always train his weaker side first. Arms could be broken in battle, and an enemy took no note of sparing one over the other.

Chagum heard Shuga's approach long before he would have long ago, before his winter at the cave, before which his untrained ears would not have detected the footfalls until the star diviner was almost on top of him. Chagum wasn't even sure how he knew it was Shuga, but he knew – he knew the footfalls of both of his chamberlains, and every one of his pages, even one of the Royal Guard - Jin, he realized. Those footfalls he recognized too.

"What manner of training is this?"

"'Morning, Shuga." Chagum rolled onto his backside and sat cross legged, smiling at the star diviner. He should have been angry at having his solitude cut short, but he was in a good mood now – and something in the silver-haired youth's sad face softened the boy's heart. "Nothing special – strength and flexibility exercises. Want to have a try?"

"Perhaps another time, Highness."

"You could use a little more exercise you know, Shuga. And perhaps a little sun, too – you look like you spend your days underground."

Shuga frowned peevishly. "Do you mock me, Highness?"

"Never, Shuga." The boy laughed, and the Master Star Diviner's face inverted at the sound of it. "Sit next to me, Shuga – it's a nice morning. There's nothing so urgent that it can't wait a minute or two, is there?"

"Highness, it would be-"

"_Sit_ with me, damn it! I promise not to tell my father. Enjoy the morning with me."

Shuga's mouth opened slightly and he started to protest, then awkwardly sat next to the boy with a sigh, arranging his robe around his knees. "Did the spearwielder teach those movements to you, Prince Chagum?"

"Her name was Balsa. _Is_ Balsa. She did. Why – will you forbid me, Shuga?"

"I will not, Prince." The star diviner said softly.

Chagum stared at him for a moment, blue eyes hard, then nodded. "You have my thanks, Master. If I fall out of bed early enough there's no harm in a little time for myself before breakfast, is there?"

"I see no reason why there should be, Highness. As long as you choose not to make a spectacle of it."

"Of course." The boy and the man sat quietly for a few moments, watching the line of sunlight spread across the ponds and trees of the garden slowly. Chagum pointed to a small brown and white bird hopping about at the base of a maple. "See that, Shuga? A wood shrike. You taught me of his stashing for winter when I was small."

"A flycatcher shrike." Shuga nodded, smiling. "You have a fine memory, Prince Chagum."

"I guess." The Crown prince lay back on the grass, hands behind his head, staring at the brightening azure sky above and wriggling his toes. "Was there something you wanted so early in the morning, Shuga?"

The white-haired man gazed down at him. "There has been news this morning, My Prince."

"News?" Chagum sat up, concerned suddenly at his tutor's subdued manner, typical of the young man though it was. "What news?"

"The Third Empress has borne her child, Lord."

"She has? Is she all right?"

Shuga shut his eyes. "Your concern is… Most becoming, Prince Chagum. Yes, she is fine – the birth went well and though she lost some blood, it appears that she will live."

"Thank goodness!" Chagum breathed, dropping back to the ground and closing his eyes. "I don't want anything to happen to anyone else – it's enough."

"Indeed." Shuga opened his eyes and stared intently at the boy. "Do you not wish to know the sex of the child, Crown Prince?"

"Oh! Of course – what is it?"

"There is a new prince in the Kingdom this morning."

"A boy?" Chagum laughed gleefully. "A brother?"

"A brother, Highness."

"Wow." Chagum sat up again, grinning. "Can I go see him?"

The star diviner was silent for a moment. "Perhaps in a day or two. When the physicians declare it safe."

"Aw – I have to wait? That's too bad." The boy bounded lithely to his feet and extended his hand to Shuga, who stood with a grunt. "What an exciting day this is! This news has given me an appetite. Will you have breakfast with me, Shuga?"

Shuga held the boy's hand for a moment then, alarmed at the impropriety, released it. "I will go prepare for lessons, I think. Join me in the classroom after you have eaten, but you need not rush – it is early yet."

"All right." Chagum nodded and started for the Second Palace at a brisk trot.

"Prince Chagum!"The boy stopped and turned, staring expectantly. "Highness…"

"What is it, Shuga? I'm hungry!"

"It is… nothing. Go and eat – and prepare yourself for the lessons. I shall expect you in proper attire?"

"Of course." Chagum grinned. He resumed his jog towards the palace. The Master Star Diviner stared after him for a long moment before following.


	4. Lost

There was a deep and profound sense of quiet in the Mikado's audience chamber when no one was speaking. Deep at the heart of the Imperial Palace, far removed from windows or outside walls and utterly sacrosanct, in the absence of human speech it was a place of such pure silence that most found it unsettling.

The Holy Sage, however, was used to it. The Mikado would speak when he was prepared, and not before. The old scholar was used to waiting.

When the moment finally came, there was a heaviness to the Mikado's voice that would have been wholly unfamiliar to anyone other than the Holy Sage. "We feel that the empire is at a great crossroads, Holy Sage. A moment of great crisis and opportunity. Do you sense it was well?"

"I do, Majesty."

"We chafe at our borders. We thirst to honor the spirit of our founder , who brought our ways to a new land and shaped it as his own. We thirst to do the same. It would be a tragedy indeed if we allowed our personal weakness to subvert this most holy task."

"Yes, My Lord."

The Mikado sighed deeply. "It is best that Holy Sages are not allowed the privilege of marriage, we think. For they are thus able to advise their Lord without the thought of wives and children clouding their vision. It is a great weight pressing down on us, ever threatening to drive us to error in a moment of weakness. And yet we must bear it, to continue our line. It is ironic, is it not?"

"Of such concerns I can only wonder and conjecture, Majesty, having no experience of my own to rely upon."

"To see a child of your own blood open his eyes to the world… To rise upon his feet and walk. To see him shed tears and to smile – these are most powerful visions, Holy Sage." The Emperor was silent again for a moment and the old man waited patiently, as he always did. "We have lost a son already, Holy Sage. And nearly another. It would be no small sacrifice to do so again."

"A great sacrifice indeed, Majesty."

"Yet at this crucial moment in our history we are asking many sacrifices of the common people. And will ask many more. How is it that we might ask less of ourselves, who rule over them by the will of the Gods? Must we not ask the greatest of sacrifices of ourselves, who have been given divine grace to lead the people? To not do so would be improper."

"Such is your wisdom, Majesty."

"The ages will judge our actions at this time, Holy Sage. They will judge whether we allowed the burdens of our heart to cause indecision and dissention when unity and purpose is most urgently needed. They will judge whether we secured the empire, or let it stand at risk of falling into the clutches of one unfit to lead it, by taint of the unholy." There was a heavy breath, another. "What is your council, Holy Sage?"

Now it was the old man's time to be silent for a moment, choosing his words carefully. "I advise caution, Majesty – for these are as you say momentous times for our empire. Decisions which once made cannot be undone must be considered most carefully."

"You are wise, of course. And yet – we have tried by dint of kindness and correction. We have tried the open hand and the closed fist, to induce change and relieve our heart of the great unease that grips it. We have taken actions most unpleasant and painful for us, in an attempt to shed light on the true path that he may follow it.

And yet he does not, Holy Sage. The true path is ignored, and the path of darkness and dissent is followed. Must we not now assume that the influences of disease have permeated so deep that their removal may no longer obviate the disease? That there may be influences so deep and sinister that not even we may remove them?"

Then old man felt a deep sense of foreboding at the Mikado's words, of events that were unfolding beyond even his powerful ability to manipulate them. "I cannot say, Majesty. I only urge careful consideration and deliberation."

"Of course." the Mikado replied dismissively. "We are always careful and deliberate. And yet, in the end we must always choose – not for ourselves, but for the kingdom we rule. No matter the pain it may cause in our hearts. You can never understand this, Holy Sage – the sacrifices we must make for the empire. Blessed are you to be free of such terrible burdens."

"Indeed, My Lord."

"We are at a great crossroads." The Mikado sounded as if his mind was far away, now. "And at this great crossroads, when plagued by doubt and worry for the future of the empire, we are blessed with a new son. Untainted by blood, untainted by the unclean or the unholy. We wonder if it is a sign from the Gods…"

****************************************************************************

Jin of the Hunters stared down from his perch far above the central courtyard of the Third Palace. The smallest of the three Empress' residences, it was nonetheless quite beautiful – high walls of blond wood surrounding a cluster of low residences and temples, their shallow-pitched pagodas brilliantly reflecting the early autumn sunlight off their dark-tiled surfaces.

In the courtyard stood a small open-fronted teahouse, simple and elegant in white and forest green. Jin's eyes were focused on the woman who rested on the small bench there with a bundle in her lap – or, more accurately, on the wiry figure of the boy who knelt next to her. Occasionally, his voice could be heard riding the breeze to where Jin stood, its pitch rising boyishly as it increased in volume. The soft ring of his laughter could sometimes be heard above the rustling of the leaves of the maples scattered throughout the grounds. Jin smiled at the sound of it.

"A most beautiful sight, is it not?" Jin spun to find the sliver-haired Master Star Diviner standing on the catwalk a few paces away. The Hunter cursed himself for his carelessness – there had been a time when he would never have allowed a mere civilian academic to approach unnoticed, but lately…

"You may be at ease, Jin – I did not intend to startle you."

"Shuga."

"My apologies for approaching unasked."

"It's fine. I heard you." The Hunter returned to staring down at the teahouse. "How did you know it was me?"

"I've come to expect you." Jin returned his gaze, surprised. "Surely you did not think I failed to notice your frequent presence close to Prince Chagum? "

"I… I suppose I did not expect to be noticed. Have I been so careless?"

"Not at all." Shuga smiled and turned to join the Hunter in observing the scene below. "It is only that during the time of the _Nyunga Ro_ ___Chaga, _we were together no small while. Your face became quite familiar."

"I see." Jin again cursed his carelessness and wondered if his skills were fading. "I'm supposed to be just another Royal Guardsman, you know."

"Are you not?" There was a rare hint of humor in the star diviner's tone. "My mind is eased to know that someone of your particular and considerable skills is watching over Chagum."

Skills, eh?… "It is only my duty, Master Shuga." Jin chuckled gruffly. "I think His Highness has noticed me too."

"Really?"

"I think so. I've caught the little fox staring at me and smiling once or twice, though I can't be sure… He sees a lot, I think."

"Indeed. Though his kindness makes him blind at times, too."

"What?" Shuga was clever, there was no question. Clever enough, however? That was the question.

A peal of boyish laughter rode the wind to their perch and the silver-haired man winced. "He has been pestering me for weeks, you know. To see the child."

"Has he?" Jin frowned. "It seems a simple enough thing – they are half-brothers after all." Nothing is so simple in this cursed place…

"As you say. But the Third Empress and His Majesty were not anxious to let the boy meet with Prince Torgal."

"That seems cruel and needless." Jin blurted out before he could check himself. "Apologies. I mean-"

"It is fine, Jin. You may speak freely in my presence." The younger man turned and met the Hunter's eyes directly. "At any time."

"Er – thank you. It is only… Prince Chagum looks so happy. How could that possibly be wrong?"

The star diviner shrugged. "It is not my place to question the wisdom of the Divine Hand, Jin – I am but a simple scholar. I know only what my eyes see and my mind interprets. It is as you say – Prince Chagum looks very happy. He was very excited the day Prince Torgal was born."

"Why should His Majesty not…" Checking his tongue this time, the Hunter turned back to the courtyard. "In my many occasions to guard His Highness since he returned to us, I have not often seen him happy."

"Again – it is as you say." The silver-haired scholar sighed deeply. "Even while the Second Empress was alive, there seemed to be an emptiness in the boy's heart that has not left him since his return. And when she passed from us…"

Jin looked across, sharply. "That was indeed a tragedy."

"For His Highness, especially. I fear that he feels very alone here now."

"He is not! I mean- His father, of course. He still has his father."

"Of course."

"Have you ever thought it odd, Master Shiga – that name?"

"Torgal?"

"Indeed. It is only… Only that Chagum has been declared to be the reincarnation of our empire's founder. And as such, it seems odd that the Third Empress' son should have been given his name."

Shuga said nothing for several heartbeats. "It is not my place to question the wisdom of the Divine Hand."

Jin stared at the star diviner for a long moment. "You were at the Mountain Palace when the Second Empress passed from us, weren't you?"

"With His Highness, yes." Shuga looked over at him. "As were you – am I correct?"

"Yes." Jin closed his eyes tightly, fighting to keep his body still and his breathing level. "You know, Master, there are times when I feel that my great concern for His Highness' welfare causes me to lose my sense of judgment."

"Jin?"

"He was very kind to me once, you see. When he was small, and I very young. And very alone. I have never forgotten. His Highness is very kind and gracious of spirit." A breath. "And it pains me very deeply when I stop to consider all that he has had to endure in his life."

"Indeed." Shuga whispered, taken aback. "You speak plainly and honestly, Sir Hunter. I can tell."

"On that occasion I shirked my duty in order to be with Prince Chagum at the Mountain Palace." Jin's voice had an odd, thin quality to it. "I could… I did not wish to be on the Imperial Grounds at that time." He took a deep, halting breath and closed his eyes. "I wished to be with him. I risked a great deal – by not being at my assigned post, I risked calling attention to myself in a most unflattering way and the results could have been…unfortunate for my colleagues and myself.

But I did not wish to be here on that day, Master Shuga. I wished to be with Prince Chagum – as close to his side as I could. And indeed, I was." The Hunter's eyes snapped open. "You care deeply about His Highness as well – do you not, My Lord?"

"His welfare is paramount to me, Master Hunter."

"Is it?" Jin smiled thinly. "That is good to hear, Master Shuga. You're closer to him than anyone. Please take great care and do not let your attention waver."

"What do you mean?"

"It is nothing special. Only that you should always be considerate of his welfare, at all times. And at all times be attentive. To everything."

The star diviner's pale visage had turned even whiter than usual. "As you will be, I am certain?"

"I will be watching. Always. But perhaps someday he will need someone to do more than watch, Master. Please remember what I've said."

"It is a promise."

"Good," Jin rasped. "It is indeed a beautiful sight – is it not, Shuga? Two Princes happily at play together. It makes one feel at peace…"

*****************************************************************************

Chagum had never really grown used to the idea of being in council with his father and the Holy Sage. True enough, the boy had many memories of visits to the audience chamber. Most of the recent ones were memories the boy would just as soon forget, but there were better memories too – and certainly no lack of familiarity with the surroundings.

No, it was the occasion more than the setting that unsettled the Crown Prince and set his stomach churning on the morning of a council. Sagum had attended them regularly from the time of his thirteenth birthday, of course – as befit his status as Crown Prince of the New Yogo Empire. He had occasionally told Chagum of the proceedings with his usual gentle humor, but that was not the same as being there. And picturing Sagum – tall, graceful and serene – in that room only made Chagum feel even more like a little boy interloping in the affairs of men.

_I'm almost as old, now – almost as old as he was when he… _That was a strange thought. In his mind's eye Sagum was almost as much father as brother, and Chagum supposed he would always remember him that way. The emptiness he felt at the loss had not lessened with the passage of time and subsequent losses – it still pained the boy every time he thought about Sagum's face.

Still, there was no denying that he was indeed an attendee at council – and as Crown Prince, Chagum had taken his duty seriously enough to speak his mind from the start, if cautiously and respectfully. He'd expected the Mikado to be proud, but Chagum's softly spoken observations generally seemed to annoy his father more than anything else. Especially when they disagreed, as seemed to happen all the time. But wasn't it his duty as Crown Prince to express his views and speak for the people?

The Holy Sage was always there, of course – he closest to the barrier and the Mikado's side. Chagum knelt in the center of the chamber, facing his father directly. On this occasion the Chief Treasurer was to his left and Shuga, of course, close to Chagum's right and just behind him – though in his role as Master Star Diviner, not the prince's tutor.

Things did not start off well. The first item on the agenda had been the Treasurer's report on the collection of the new taxes on rice and millet, a subject on which the young prince found it impossible to hold his tongue.

"It is as predicted, Majesty." the bearded treasurer said in his low drone, looking none too happy. "The collectors report that close to half the farmers were unable to pay the full amount they owed."

"Is their greed such that they are willing to shirk their duty to the Empire then, Tokai?"

"Er – if would appear so, Your Majesty. Many of the farmers begged that they might be given until the second rice harvest to pay the remainder. They argue that once they have sold off the millet they will-"

"Seize their lands, then, if they are unable to pay."

"Majesty?"

"Did you not hear us, Chief Treasurer?" the Mikado growled. "It is the law of the Empire – those who are not able to pay their tax shall have their lands seized. We do not understand why this has not been done already."

"I…– That is-"

The treasurer shuffled nervously for a moment and Chagum heard his own voice in the room, disturbingly sounding even higher than normal after the low rumble of the Treasurer. "May I speak, Your Majesty?"

There was a long, dreadful moment when the only sounds in the audience chamber were the breathing of the four men and himself. "Speak, Crown Prince."

"Your Majesty, as I said when the new plan of taxation was adopted, all but the largest farmers would find it difficult to meet the deadline for payment of taxes. I do not believe it is a lack of loyalty to the Empire – our citizens would pay if they could."

"Then they shall be pleased to see their fields and houses given over to that Empire's service, will they not?"

The boy swallowed deeply, mustering himself and trying not to think of his likely personal audience with his father later. "Indeed Majesty, it is as you say. But if we were to seize the land of so many farmers at this time, we would see a great many of them homeless and starving this winter. Many will surely die – and their families."

"Their lands will still feed the Empire, Prince Chagum. Or do you not consider that this is the most important fact?"

"If I may, Majesty… If we were to impose a limit on the amount of tax owed – as a percentage of the yield of the crop, so that the poorer farms with less yield would owe less – most would be able to pay their tax and stay on their land, and we would not have to feed and clothe the starving over the winter."

"Treasurer!"

"Yes, Majesty?"

"It would appear as if our young Prince feels he knows more about the nature of taxation than his Emperor and the Chief Treasurer."

"Yes, Majesty."

"And it would also appear, Chief Treasurer, that the young Prince is more concerned with the comfort of criminals than with the upholding of the law."

"It is as you say, Majesty." The Treasurer's voice quavered slightly.

More dreadful moments of quiet, as Chagum felt a burning inside his stomach beginning to rise to his throat. "Chief Treasurer."

"Yes, Majesty?"

"You will instruct the Chief of Infantry to send a squad to accompany the collectors on their next rounds. If the farmers still refuse to pay, seize their property. If they resist, they are to be taken into custody. Are we clear in our instructions?"

"Yes, Your Majesty."

"You see, Prince Chagum, that we are vested with the defense and welfare of the entire kingdom. There are those who wish to do us harm – many times in the history of New Yogo we have been forced to defend ourselves and we may need to do so again. It is the holy duty of our subjects to support our ability to defend them. We are distressed that you do not appear to see this."

_Defend them_? He thought bitterly. _Who will defend them when their lands are being seized? _ The boy tasted bile in his throat. "I am sorry to have disappointed you, Your Majesty."

"Indeed." The Mikado's voice brightened. "With that settled, then, we have brighter subjects to attend to. We have decided to be generous, Prince Chagum. We have decided to give you a great opportunity."

Chagum's gut lurched. "I am grateful, Majesty."

"A great opportunity, Crown Prince. To demonstrate your ability to us. To demonstrate your ability and your loyalty."

"Thank… Thank you, Majesty."

"For too long, Prince Chagum, the Yakue villages in the Eastern Mountains have done little to support the Empire. They pay little in taxes, for their strange Yakue crops and goods are nearly worthless. They accept our benevolent protection and give nothing to us in return.

Therefore, we have decided that each Yakue village shall send all of its men and boys between the ages of sixteen and twenty-five years to serve in the New Yogo Army. In this way, they shall have the opportunity to serve their land and Emperor. It will be a struggle for some at first, but they shall quickly learn the ways of the Yogo people and forget their superstitions and rituals. And it shall be a great boon to our army. The threat from the Kingdom of Rota grows more serious all the time."

There was a sharp intake of breath from Shuga, to his right, and silence from the others. Chagum felt numb, and dizzy. "We have also decided that you shall lead the contingent of conscription to the villages, Crown Prince. Who better to do so than the Son of Heaven, the reincarnation of our first Emperor who brought civilization to these lands?"

Chagum's mouth snapped open and he gaped at the Mikado behind the partition. "I can't do that!"

"How dare you address us in such a way, Crown Prince!" the Mikado bellowed.

"My sincere apologies!" Chagum ducked his head quickly. "I only meant, Majesty, that if we were to conscript all of the men and boys from all of the villages, they… The villages would die, Your Majesty! They would not have enough strong bodies to till their fields or repair their-"

"Again, the Crown Prince thinks more of the desires of those who would flout the law than the Empire he serves. If their villages no longer suit them, they may come to the cities and learn the ways of civilized Yogoese. It is all in service to the Empire."

Chagum kept his forehead to the floor and closed his eyes tightly. "I most humbly beg you to reconsider this, Your Majesty. With utmost respect, I believe it would be devastating to the welfare of the Yakue."

"It is decided, Prince Chagum. Will you not thank us for the honor of such a great responsibility – one that you have done so little to deserve?"

Chagum felt as if he were in a dream, falling, unable to stop himself. He wanted to scream more than anything – as loudly as his lungs could make him. "I… I most humbly beg… That you assign this duty to another, Your Majesty."

"What?"

"I… I am unworthy. And I'm afraid I might be…unable to complete this duty. I believe it would be better placed in the hands of another."

"Do you..." The Mikado said in a low voice. Chagum panted softly, forehead still on the floor. "Master Star Diviner – you have the unfortunate task of completing the education of this… this_ boy_. What do you say to this?"

"I… I believe His Highness is correct, Your Majesty. I believe he is too young at this time to take on a responsibility of this kind."

"Holy Sage?"

"I agree, Majesty." The old man spoke for the first time. "I believe this duty might better fall to one of our generals."

"Indeed. So it appears… Very well. See to it, Holy Sage."

"At your command, Majesty."

"Raise your head, Crown Prince." Chagum did so, opening his eyes slowly. The bamboo blinds remained in place. "We are most disappointed in your reluctance, Prince Chagum."

"I shall strive to please you better, Majesty."the boy rasped.

"Will you, now." The Mikado's voice took on a tone of disgust. "It would hardly seem possible that you could do less to please us, Crown Prince. You have a disobedient will – the same disobedient will as your mother."

The shock in the chamber at hearing the Crown Prince rebuked so personally and publicly was almost visible in the very air. Chagum was breathless, and felt himself trembling. "You are disobedient, as she was – more concerned with your own whims than the benefit of the Empire. Perhaps the fiend from Nayug has left a trace of its madness in you as well." The boy trembled more violently. "We are finished. You are all dismissed."

"Aye, Majesty." The Holy Sage stood and the others in the room followed suit. Chagum felt Shuga's hand on his elbow, steadying him as he struggled to rise.

"Holy Sage!" the Emperor's voice rang out.

"Your Majesty?"

"Prince Chagum is to have no contact with the Third Prince. We do not wish Prince Torgal to fall under an unhealthy influence. See to it."

"Yes… Yes, Majesty."

"_None_, Holy Sage – not even in passing. We trust that this is a clear enough command that you will be able to follow it?"

"It shall be done, Lord." The Holy Sage cast a worried glance at Chagum, and shuffled out of the audience chamber, the Chief Treasurer behind him. Chagum numbly allowed himself to be led from the room on unsteady legs.

Chagum allowed Shuga to support his weight until they were outside the Imperial Palace, momentarily numb. He felt as if he had been struck by a blunt fist, his body aching and his mind confused. He glanced around as if puzzled when his feet touched rough stone, then looked upward at the thickly overcast sky and gently tugged his elbow free of the Star Diviner's hand. "Thank you, Shuga."

"Your Highness, are you-"

"Thank you." Chagum took a deep rattling breath and started towards the Second Palace at a deliberate pace. Shuga took up a place a few steps behind and followed, absently wringing his hands.

The boy stared straight ahead during the slow procession, mechanically placing one foot before the other and taking no notice of the attendants bowing along their path. He walked the length of the entrance hall and, once inside his receiving chamber, looked around once again, seemingly dazed. With a sigh, he lowered himself onto a cushion and folded his hands on his lap.

The Star Diviner knelt next to him. "Shall I call for tea, Prince Chagum?"

Chagum turned his head slowly, then nodded. "If you like."

The silver-haired young man did so, and then he and the boy were silent. A few moments later two dining attendants scurried into the hall and set the service before the prince. Seeing no reaction, from the boy, Shuga quickly poured from the cast iron kettle and handed him a cup. "Drink, Lord."

"Thanks."

"My Lord…"

"You don't need to speak, Shuga."

"Highness-"

"You must not question the Divine Hand." Chagum took a sip of tea and smiled weakly. "I'm sorry I wasn't able to be a better student for you, Shuga."

"Your Highness!"

"I know this will reflect badly on you. None of it is your fault – you've taught me well. It's not fair for you to share in my shame. Not fair at all…"

"You have been a finer student than I could have ever wished! Even His Majesty praised your scholarship."

"_Even_ his Majesty? Chagum asked wryly. He cut off the Star Diviner's protest with a raised hand. "It would make me happy if you were to leave my side, Master. I would be sad to see your career ruined by my stupid, childish mistakes. Somehow I don't think my scholarship is foremost on his Majesty's mind."

"Never!" Shuga gasped. He bowed quickly. "Highness – I will not leave your side, not even if so commanded."

"Is it not also treason to disobey the Crown Prince, Shuga?"

"Then let me be accused of it. I shall not leave your side while I still breathe the air and walk the grounds of the palace. I shall not."

"Then you're as much a stupid boy as I am!" Chagum spat, slamming his cup to the table hard enough to make the silver jump. He stared at the top of the Star Diviner's head for a moment, then sighed. "Raise your stupid head already."

"As you command."

"I don't know what to do now, Shuga." The boy whispered.

"My Lord?"

"I'm lost."


	5. Alone

The Holy Sage of the New Yogo Empire was nearly eighty years old. He'd had a name of his own, once. He still had, though it had been so long since even he had spoken it aloud that it may as well have passed from the Earth - as surely the two emperors he had served before the current Mikado ascended to the throne. He was the Holy Sage now – nothing more and nothing less.

The myths and legends being what they were, Torgal – Son of Heaven, defeater of the water fiend and founder of the New Yogo Empire – was the greatest hero of all times. Kainan Nanai, the first Holy Sage, had been his loyal and subservient spiritual advisor at the founding of the new empire. That was what the legends said.

The Holy Sage knew better.

There was no question of the Mikado's exalted and powerful status in Yogo society. Few Yogoese outside the Imperial grounds would have recognized the Sage had they crossed paths on the street, though they surely would have noted his extraordinarily long beard. Yet for all this, the Holy Sage knew what those people did not. He knew that there were many types of power, and many wielders of power. The power he held was knowledge – access to a wealth of tendo that even the Mikado himself could not know.

One of those truths was that Emperor Torgal, Son of Heaven and founder of the New Yogo Empire, had been a bit of an idiot.

A useful, idiot, to be certain. Nanai-sama could never have subjugated the Yakue and founded a kingdom without Torgal to stand at the head of the troops and look impressive. He'd been obedient, too – every decision that Nanai had manipulated him towards, he had willingly taken as if it were his own. While the Holy Sages were not a dynasty of blood, they were a dynasty of knowledge – passed from sage to sage under the very nose of the Mikado.

The Mikado, of course, was a product of a dynasty of blood, and thanks to the dedication of his predecessors the Holy Sage felt as if he knew all of them personally. They all had something of Torgal in them – grandiose and pretty to look at, especially on horseback with a sword in hand. And generally willing to leave the running of the kingdom in the hands of the Holy Sage.

This one was different. This Mikado.

He was smart, for one – smart, as his mother had been. Smart enough to chafe at the end of the leash, and to hunger to test his own ideas in the game of empire building. He had a better sense of history than most of them, too – history as emperors believe it to be, in any case. And smart enough to see threats, real or imagined, as easier to eliminate before they became threats. Threats like the small but wealthy kingdom of Rota, to the north.

And other threats, besides.

The boy was different, too. The Crown Prince. Different from the old ones, but different from his father as well. His older brother had been smart enough – no genius but a kind and dignified boy, though frail and lacking the stature to be a true leader. He had known this, of course – cursed by a modicum of intelligence as he was. He had never carried himself as someone who expected to – or felt he deserved to – rule from behind the bamboo blinds.

Chagum, now – that was a different boy. As smart as his father and smarter than his brother. Unlike his father, when he used his intelligence to see around corners he didn't see snakes hiding in the tall grass. He saw riddles begging to be solved. He had the ability to win people to his side without even making the attempt – without even conscious of the act – simply by exerting his nature on his surroundings. He was special. He would have made a formidable figure in this or any time, a man truly to be reckoned with.

It was a shame.

The old man rapped gently on the door of the Master Star Diviner's study. A moment later the silver-haired young man – a boy still, truth be told – appeared. His always worried eyes arched in surprise to see the Holy Sage at this early hour. "Master! How may I be of service?"

"Shuga. I have need of you. Will you walk with me?"

"Of course. Are you well this morning?"

"I am, Shuga. Come, please." The old man strode off and heard the star diviner slide his door shut and scurry after him. "I am sorry to take you away from your duties with the Crown Prince, but I have sent word that you will not be attending him. I have a more urgent task that requires your attention."

"Urgent, Master?"

The Holy Sage did not reply immediately, but instead walked briskly forward for a while, the younger man struggling to match his pace. When they had reached the sand outside the Star Palace he turned towards the east gate of the imperial complex. "Master Shuga, do you remember what I told you when I invited you on the path you have chosen?"

The younger man took a couple of strides before answering. "If you become involved, you will be forced to see the dark side of the sacred Star Palace – a side dirtier and uglier than you have ever imagined."

"The road to becoming a Master Star Diviner is filled with a darkness terrible and foul." The sage finished, smiling. "You have an impressive memory."

"Those were hardly words I could forget, My Lord."

"And wisely so." The old man stopped and turned his gaze on the younger. "Do not think for a moment that you have seen a fraction of that darkness. Do not think for a moment that you have begun to understand its depths. For you have not."

"I would never presume so, Master."

The Holy Sage stared intently at the star diviner who, as always, did not wilt under his glare. "His Majesty knew that it was the Second Empress who foiled his attempts to assassinate Prince Chagum. Was that known to you?"

Shuga took a deep breath. "I had always thought that it was a possibility."

"His Majesty was glad to have the Crown Prince returned to him after the hatching of the Nyunga Ro Im. His heart ached at the thought of losing both his sons, and understood the powerful symbol that Prince Chagum represented. It was a joyous day for him."

"Of course. For all of us."

"His Majesty expressed a concern almost at once, however, that Prince Chagum seemed to have become strange in his time away from the palace. The boy had always expressed a strong will – too strong, it might be said. But the boy seemed more restless and quick to question the Divine will And of course, His Majesty did not forget that the Second Empress had openly defied his wishes, no matter the results of that defiance.

It might even be said, Shuga, that it was His Majesty's hope that Prince Chagum's rebellious nature was a result of the anger his mother felt at the attempts on his life – an anger that she had passed along to him. It was His Majesty's wish that if this were the case, actions might be taken to remedy this and restore sense to the Crown Prince."

Shuga was pale in the morning light. "Master, why are you telling me this?"

"It is important that you have a sense of all that has transpired. Of the duties that may fall on the Holy Sage. And of the elements that guide the actions he must take." The old man turned and resumed his progress towards the gate. "His Majesty is concerned for the future of the New Yogo Empire. It is the paramount concern of his existence. As concerns the Crown Prince especially – as someone who would one day rule the empire in his place.

His Majesty's hopes were not realized. It is His belief that the Crown Prince has, if anything, grown more contemptuous of the Divine will since his mother's passing. He is gravely concerned that unhealthy influences have stained the Prince – have darkened his soul with anger and the thirst for revenge for perceived wrongs. Perhaps other, even more sinister things have stained him. This is why he is at such pains to make sure the Third Prince remains pristine and untainted by such dark elements."

"Surely this is not the case?" Shuga whispered. "Surely His Majesty does not believe such things!"

"It is not our place to question the Divine Hand." They had arrived at the east gate, where an oxcart and carriage with two of the gargantuan animals harnessed at the lead waited for them. "I must ask you to take a journey, Shuga. Several stone tablets have been discovered in the library at the Mountain Palace – texts written in ancient Yogoese, perhaps even written by Nanai-sama himself. The Mikado wishes that these should be translated as soon as possible. As you have the greatest expertise of any of our scholars in the old language, you are to attend to the matter immediately."

"What?" Shuga stammered. "Respectfully, Master, surely Gakai could-"

"It is His Majesty's expressed wish that you should translate the tablets yourself, immediately. Two apprentices will journey with you, and your carriage has been provisioned with food and clothing for two days. You may return the day after tomorrow if the translation work has been completed."

Shuga looked dazed at the suddenness of events. "Immediately?"

"That is His Majesty's Command."

"Surely Prince Chagum should make the journey as well? I can continue his studies during the journey and teach him the rudiments of ancient Yogoese as well. And he so loves the Mountain Palace."

"The Crown Prince will be attending to another matter for the Mikado. Do not concern yourself with him."

"Another matter?" But-"

"You are to leave at once, Shuga. This is an order from the Mikado himself." The Holy Sage led the Star Diviner to the carriage, where a royal guard waited to assist him on board. Two nervous and tired-looking young apprentice star diviners sat on the bench inside. He slammed the door shut and pounded on the side of the carriage. "Go!"

The oxen bellowed and stomped off through the gate, a cloud of dust rising in their wake. The old man stared after it for a moment, then turned and started towards the Imperial Palace, smoothing his beard. "No matter how dark and crooked the road, Shuga. Remember your words well."

******************************************************************************

Chagum could sense the change quite clearly. As with many things in the boy's complicated perception, he could not explain how he knew the things he knew – he simply knew them. Perhaps it was a slight change in posture as the various courtiers genuflected to him as he passed. An occasional glimpse out of the corner of his eye of one of them staring at him. Perhaps even some semblance of the heightened awareness of the unspoken and unheard that had blessed and cursed him since he carried the Nyunga Ro Im inside him.

He was certain, as only a child could be, that his status in the Imperial court had changed since his censure during the council session. Though few had been present and the proceedings theoretically secret, the court was a small place. People whispered, others repeated. Chagum sensed no malevolence in the strange aura that followed him now – merely wonder and doubt. He was used to be the center of attention of course, given his status as a prince. But this was something altogether different.

While it was no doubt unsettling to enter into an audience with his father without Shuga's presence, Chagum did not feel especially nervous as he walked the hallway towards the Mikado's audience chamber. He was afraid of his father, no doubt – but not so much that he cared to weep and plead before him. The Mikado's feelings about Chagum were more than clear now – the Mikado had seen to that – and Chagum was still Crown Prince. His father's approval was no longer a realistic possibility, and the failure to achieve of it not to be mourned. It was liberating in a way. He could bear the physical pain easily enough, should it come to that. He would not lose himself in order to avoid it.

Chagum had briefly considered pleading with his father to reconsider the decision to separate him from his brother. Torgal's absence was an ache in the prince's gut – every morning he thought of the baby's small face and smiled. But no, he would not – his father would not relent and would view the asking as a further sign of weakness. And Chagum was still the Crown Prince.

To the boy's surprise not even the Holy Sage was present as Chagum entered the chamber and bowed low before the Mikado's throne. "I am at your humble service, Majesty."

Today, there was no wait – the Mikado spoke as soon as Chagum's words had left his lips. "What news do you have of your studies today, Prince Chagum?"

"They proceed well."

"Tell us something of them. It would give us pleasure."

Chagum almost looked up in surprise, caught himself and cleared his throat. "I am currently studying the history of Yogese agriculture, Majesty. As well, I am learning the taxonomy of our native bird species."

"Indeed – we remember those lessons from our own boyhood. And you are meeting your chief tutor's expectations, then?"

"I believe so. He does not tell me otherwise."

"Well – as we do not have him with us to ask, we will accept your word on that point."

"Thank you, Majesty." Chagum was taken aback by the unusual tone of bonhomie in his father's voice, but kept his own even and measured.

"Raise your head, Prince Chagum." The boy, to his further surprise, heard the bamboo blinds being raised. When they were fully retracted he met the impassive gaze of his father. "We have noted your distaste for the task we asked of you a few weeks ago, Crown Prince. Yet we wish to give you opportunity to serve the empire – you are no longer a child suckling at his nursemaid's breast. Therefore we have decided to grant you another such opportunity."

"I am deeply grateful, Fath- Your Majesty." Chagum silently cursed his slip of the tongue, but if his father noticed he gave no indication. The boy waited with trepidation for the Mikado to continue.

"You have met, I believe, your cousin Lord Dozon, master of the Fifth Cloud Castle?"

"Yes, Majesty. When I was very small he visited us at the Second Palace."

"Indeed. He is a most important friend of this court and a bulwark against enemies from the north or from the sea. His son weds two days hence – there is to be a ceremony and celebration at the castle. You shall represent us at this gathering. We trust, Prince, that you find this task to be suitable for your sensibilities?"

Chagum ignored the jibe, inwardly relieved at the innocuous nature of the task. "Aye, Majesty. I would be honored."

"We are glad." The Mikado smiled – the first smile Chagum could remember seeing on the royal visage for a good while. "This will be your first time representing the Empire at the head of a delegation, Prince Chagum. Conduct yourself well."

"I will humbly attempt to do so, Majesty. Thank you for the honor you have bestowed upon me."

"Noted." The Mikado stared at Chagum, unblinking, for several long seconds. While the boy found it distinctly unsettling it was not his place to speak – he had no choice but to wait and ponder the strange turn the audience had taken, so different than what he had expected. Finally, his father spoke in a soft tone. "We hope you understand the sense of duty that falls upon our shoulders. That the needs of the empire are above all other things."

"Of… Of course, Majesty." The boy nodded, puzzled.

"Good. We are pleased." The Mikado sighed deeply. "The Fifth Cloud Castle is but a day and a night's ride along the Northern Road. You shall depart at first light tomorrow – the preparations have been laid."

"I shall prepare myself, Majesty."

"Good, good. You are dismissed then, Crown Prince." Chagum bowed deeply and backed towards the door of the chamber, then turned to leave as he heard the blinds being lowered behind him.

When he was back out in the crisp autumn air, he carefully forced his mind back over the course of the audience. He was deeply relieved to face neither an odious duty of any sort – the one assigned to him involved little more than nodding politely and trying not to look too much the boy in man's robe – nor a painful visit to the chamberlain's study. It was certainly a better result than any of his recent audiences with his father.

There was a strangeness to his father's manner that was impossible to ignore, however. The Mikado had seemed almost solicitous, which Chagum would have thought beyond the realm of possibility. The boy felt an elation at not having displeased his father struggling to rise in him, a pride. But he would not allow it – there were things he did not understand. Lord Dozon was indeed a cousin, but hardly an important figure in the royal hierarchy – his father had never even spoken the man's name in Chagum's presence to the best of his memory. It was a tremendous honor to have any son of the Mikado , much less the heir to the throne, present at a marriage ceremony.

Perhaps it was another mockery – though the Mikado's demeanor belied that possibility. Was his father trying to tell him that he could be trusted with nothing more than a ceremonial role at a minor cousin's wedding? He bristled at the thought – it was a possibility, certainly. Not his father's usual approach, but possible.

In the end, however, Chagum knew that he existed to serve the Mikado. There was little to be done but go and make the best of it, though the mystery of the situation nagged at the boy. It was a shame that Shuga would not be journeying with him. While the Star Diviner's mother-hen closeness was a bit smothering at times, his absence would mean Chagum would have no one to talk with at all during the entire journey. Already he missed the presence of the young man – Chagum almost always felt lonely, but it was only in Shuga's absence that the boy realized how he depended on the star diviner's company. And even that comfort was denied him. What was so important about whatever task he'd been sent on that Shuga couldn't have even been bothered to say goodbye?

*****

When his page arrived to wake him it was early in the morning – far too early. Chagum slowly shook the cobwebs out of his head as his pages dressed him in his formal robes. As much as he detested the heavy garments at least it was cool now – they were truly intolerable in the heat of summer.

His attendants had packed for him, of course – it would have been unthinkable to allow the boy to do it himself. It still seemed wrong to Chagum to embark on a journey without a pack on his back, and he missed the feel of it, the weight pressing down on his shoulders. This way wasn't really travelling – it was far too easy. How could any journey that required no effort truly be worthwhile?

Naturally no one would have thought to pack anything for entertainment, Chagum was certain – it never occurred to them. Especially in Shuga'a absence it promised to be a supremely boring couple of days. The boy sorted through the scrolls on the shelves of his bedchamber, yawning. He settled on a pair of historical texts that he remembered having a bit of lusty drama to them and handed them to his page. As he readied to leave the room he stopped, nagged by a stray thought. It was silly, but he felt drawn to the ceremonial dagger Balsa had given him at Hunter's Cave, all that time ago. Though he hadn't so much as lifted the dagger in weeks, he retrieved it from its hiding place behind a stack of scrolls and tucked it inside the folds of his robe.

The carriage with its team of oxen was waiting for him outside the second palace. The Crown Prince glanced up at the full moon still visible between leaden clouds in the pale dawn light. A double moon. He was surprised to see only two guards preparing to accompany him – even for a trip to the nearby Mountain Palace his delegation was usually larger than that. Perhaps they were short of men, the others out collecting taxes and seizing farms – or Yakue boys. The thought made him scowl as he refused the hand of his attendant and adroitly leapt into the carriage. And it left Chagum in a foul temper as they set forth, the sky a threatening gray to match his mood.

*****

Jin of the Eight Hunters knelt at the small table that represented the only furnishing, bar his futon, in his tiny apartment in the soldier's barracks of the Imperial Palace. A cup of wine sat half-empty on the table and the man stared at it, unmoving.

Jin knew that time was passing, that no matter what he did it would continue to do so. There was no path forward from this place and this moment that the young hunter could imagine taking. To do what he must – to honor his fathers and fulfill his duty to the empire? To not do so was unimaginable – but Jin could no more imagine the doing than not. Both paths seemed ridiculous, absurd beyond all comprehension. As if he must be ensconced in his bed, dreaming a terrible dream that he would soon wake from.

_Do people cry in dreams – real tears?_ he wondered, noting the wetness on both cheeks but making no move to wipe it away._ Probably not. _

When the knock came, firm and insistent on his door, Jin made no move to answer it. He remained silent as the knock was repeated, still staring at the cup on the table, not looking up even as he heard his door slide open and heavy footfalls enter. "Jin." When the younger man did not respond, Mon strode closer and placed his hand on his shoulder. "Jin, we're going. I'll order you if I have to."

Jin looked up, finally. Zen was there too, standing awkwardly in the doorway looking sullen. Mon spoke again. "I can sympathize with you, Jin. But we are called, and we must go. Will you dishonor eight generations of your fathers?"

"I beg of you Sir - don't speak to me about honor." Jin whispered. "Not now."

"Will I have you arrested then, Jin? Or will you report as ordered?"

"My honor is laid waste. No course I might take would salvage it."

"Jin-"

"I'm coming." The young hunter pushed himself to his feet and brushed a sleeve across his eyes. "I do not need to be accompanied like a prisoner – leave me. I'll be at the northern gate in five minutes." Mon and Zen stared at him, Mon's hand drifting towards his sword belt. "Go, I beg you! Give me a moment's peace at least before I must do this terrible thing."

"Is that how you speak to the commander of the Hunters?" Zen growled. "Are you so convinced that only you feel pain then, Jin?"

"I apologize, Sir." Jin bowed, hands clenched. "Have I earned so little trust with my service that you disbelieve my words so openly? Leave me, I beg you – I will be at the promised place."

Mon and Zen exchanged a glance, then Mod nodded and Zen stepped back out into the hall. "Five minutes, Jin. We depart."

"I'll be there. On my honor as one of The Eight." Mon nodded again and departed, leaving Jin alone for a last moment in his apartment. A low growl build in his chest and grew, slowly, into a long, strangled roar that Jin restrained only with the utmost effort of his formidable will. When it was done he breathed deeply several times, then reached onto the shelf above his bed and took down a small inkpot and quill.

***************************************************************************

The sky stubbornly refused to brighten as the carriage jangled along the north road. Chagum stared forlornly at the leaden clouds, half-wishing it would rain – if nothing else, it might relieve his boredom a little to watch it fall.

The sour mood than had gripped him at his departure had not left him – and had been joined by a simmering unease in the pit of his stomach. He'd been surly to his page as a result, which only made the Crown Prince feel worse. The page now sat forlornly as far away as he could squeeze his little body in the confines of the carriage. Chagum wanted to apologize but couldn't muster the will and besides, he'd probably be scolded by his chamberlain for apologizing to a page anyway.

Chagum closed his eyes and leaned against the wall of the carriage, determined to at least snatch a few moments of sleep to try and ease his mood. He felt afraid and he didn't know why, and the boy had learned in his time with Balsa – and since – that he rarely felt afraid for no good reason. As the carriage rolled over an especially deep rut in the north road he felt the dagger underneath his robe slap against his hip. The Crown Prince let his hand rest on it and, feeling strangely comforted by its cold solidity, drifted into an uneasy doze.

*************************************************************************

"Wake, Master."

"Mmmf?"

"We have arrived back at the Star Palace, Master Shuga."

"Thank you." Shuga yawned, wincing as his neck complained bitterly at having been subjected to his awkward sleeping posture. The two apprentice Star Diviners meekly sat, waiting for their Master to step down first.

Shuga's legs wobbled a bit as he sank slightly into the sand outside the Star Palace, glancing up at a dingy sky free of stars. The silver-haired man hated carriage rides in general, but this one had been especially galling in that it had been a complete waste of time. A fool's errand, no less – a race to transcribe some barely legible scribbling that proved to contain not a scrap of information that was remotely interesting, never mind important. What in the world had the Holy Sage been thinking?

One of the apprentices stationed at the main entry brightened when he saw the Master Star Diviner's approach. "Master Shuga, Sir."

"Yes, what is it?" Shuga mumbled impatiently, irritated and wanting nothing more than a warm bath and a bed, and the chance to check up on Chagum in his palace in the morning.

"I was given a message for you, Master." The young apprentice reached into his robe and pulled out a small skin, tightly rolled and sealed with wax.

"Who is this from – the Holy Sage?"

"No, Master. It was a soldier. He said I must give it to you as soon as you returned. I've worked a second shift at the post, Sir, waiting for you."

"A soldier?" Shuga frowned. "Thank you." He accepted the scroll and broke the seal as he stepped through the entry and into the dimly lit Star Palace, squinting as he unrolled the skin. There were a few paragraphs of writing inside, set down in a hurried and crude hand.

Shuga continued to walk as he read for a few paces, then stumbled to a stop. He held the skin aloft, bringing it close to his eyes, and his arms began to tremble. Finally he gasped and fell against the wall, nearly tumbling to the ground. One of the apprentices from his journey was behind him and caught him. "Master Shuga! Are you all right?"

"It… This cannot be…"

"Master?"

"No! No…"

Shuga broke free of the apprentice and stumbled towards the two at the entry. "Apprentice! When was this given to you?"

The young man looked terrified at the urgent tone in his master's voice. "This… this morning, Sir. Just before midday, I would guess."

"Chagum… The Prince. When did the Crown Prince depart? When?!"

"I… Early this morning I believe, Sir. I wasn't there, but I saw the carriage pass by."

"Nanai preserve us!"

"Master? Are you all right?"

Shuga stumbled towards his study, the skin still clutched tightly at his side. A great fear and sadness built in him, overcoming the disbelief that had been his initial reaction. As his mind sorted through the words contained in the letter, a feeling of utter helplessness joined it. "Too late! No time, no time…" His rational mind ran wildly, searching for an answer. Any answer, anything that could be done.

Nothing came. There was no time.

The Star Diviner slid his door wide and trudged into his study, a sob escaping his throat. Disbelief again, now. Refusal to believe. It was fascinating the tricks the mind played. Even at such a moment as this.

His nose twitched at the scent of smoke and he dropped the skin and looked up, mouth agape. "A bird could fly in there if you keep that up, _Baka_." The old shaman Torogai grinned toothily at Shuga, then set down her pipe and stood, glancing at the parchment. "I hope that isn't all you brought me, Boy, or it's gonna be a short night."


	6. From My Heart

___**PART II**_

___**.**_

___**BALSA**_

___**.**_

___**.**_

_**I want to shine on you.**_

_**and always like that dazzling sun.**_

_**I will defend you from all the darkness.**_

_**this is the truth from my heart.**_

_**.  
**_

_**When that season**_

_**Visits you**_

_**I will accompany you anywhere**_

_**Come, let's try the world.**_

_**.  
**_

_**I want to shine on you.**_

_**and always like that dazzling sun.**_

_**I will defend you from all the darkness.**_

_**this is the truth from my heart.**_

_**.  
**_

_**This is truth...**_

_**From my heart...**_

_**.**_

_**.**_

_**.**_

_**.**_

Balsa the Spearwielder was tired.

The journey from the high, arid plains of Kanbal to the verdant lands of Yogo was an arduous one, even by the standards of someone so formidable a physical specimen. Balsa harbored no false modesty – she was as strong, fit and resourceful as any man in the world. With or without a spear in her hand she was a force to be reckoned with.

But all that be damned, she wasn't getting any younger and that journey wasn't getting any shorter.

Balsa stood and stared out over the lands of the New Yogo Empire, a gorgeous sight on a clear summer's day. As beautiful as the view was, it was no more pleasing that the excuse it gave her to rest her feet. It felt good to be out of the high mountains with their thin air and bitter winds at last, but the road ahead of her was still long.

The Spearwielder untied her spear, set her pack on the rocky ground and extracted a few slices of dried yak meat from it. With a weary sigh she sat on the pack and chewed thoughtfully for several minutes. When the meat was finished she retrieved her water skin and tipped back a long swallow, then another. Groaning, she pushed herself back to her feet and re-secured her belongings to her back and waist. The day wasn't getting any younger and neither was she.

Now that the difficult part of her journey was behind her Balsa began to feel a heaviness come over her body and mind, and her energy lag. It was late afternoon now, and several hours walk through the foothills at her current pace even to the outer rice terraces. Lower Ougi was at least an hour beyond that. One more night camped beside the trail might be preferable to all those hours of walking into ascending darkness on tired legs.

That was what she told herself, anyway, when she had chosen a flat spot to build her fire and lay out her bedroll. The truth of it was undeniable - she _was_ exhausted and the rest would be welcome. But there was something else this time, something in addition to that bit of extra soreness in her calves and lower back. The sense of joy, almost (but not quite) homecoming was absent. It was that feeling that had lightened her feet and made the last leg of the journey easier on her last couple of trips. In its place was an emptiness at the sight of New Yogo, a hollow space in her gut that left the Spearwielder feeling morose and strangely lonely.

"Getting old. And senile." She muttered to herself as she banged her flints together and her campfire sputtered into life. Still muttering, she grabbed her darts and tromped off into the trees in search of something besides dried yak for dinner.

*****

It was when she reached the rice paddies just before midday that Balsa finally came to grips with the malaise that now thoroughly enveloped her.

Especially for someone raised in such an arid and inhospitable land as Kanbal, the rice terraces of Yogo were a pleasing sight. Sculpted into a stair step pattern on the hillsides and sloping down to the flat paddies in the valley, they were a marriage of lush green swathes of land and dark blue squares of still water. The slightly raised footpaths sliced through the valley in a gridwork pattern, the small figures of farmers and villagers moving here and there among the fields. The day was warm, even hot – cicadas sang and the wind blew only a soft sigh through the thinning trees on either side of the trail.

Balsa made her way at a comfortable pace down the zigzag of the trail, leaving the last of the forest behind her for now and entering the upper terraces. There was no rush at this point – Lower Ougi could easily be reached by evening – and her muscles were stiff and sore from her weeks-long trek through the hostile wilds of the Aogiri. The scar at her right side was a dull pulsing ache, perhaps inflamed by the change in weather, or something else.

She crossed paths with a few Yogese and even Yakue peasants as she wound her way down through the terraces to the flat of the valley – village women with baskets or water carriers, farmers trekking to their outer fields. All nodded as she passed, curiosity and politeness both a staple of the Yogoese culture. Her physical appearance was different enough that she was clearly not of their stock, but foreigners were not an uncommon sight in this part of the peninsula in summer, it being the only overland route from the lands across the Misty Blue range. She even recognized a few of the faces from previous journeys, though if they recognized her they gave no indication.

Her mood had begun to brighten a little as she settled into the comfortable familiarity of being in these places again, though there was still a heaviness to her step that the Spearwielder did not especially like. It was only when she was well into the rice paddies on the floor of the Aoyumi valley that she found the malaise was something she could no longer wish away and deny. When she saw the mill.

"Gods!" she gasped at the sight of it. Surely they would have cleared it away by now – taken what they could for scrap, perhaps rebuilt it. But no – the little house sat, a pile of charred wood and ash, exactly where she had left it on that fateful night nearly two years earlier.

Part of the water wheel had actually survived intact, though it was no little more than a wedge of wood suspended partially upright in a pile of debris and cinders. Balsa dropped her pack numbly and slowly approached via the little pathway, still as intact as if it led to a bustling little mill and attached house. She could almost smell the smoke from their brazier, and hear the gentle thump of the wheel as its trickle of water turned it. She could almost hear their voices – hers, and the other.

"What are you thinking right now?" Balsa whispered. "Are you well? What do your eyes see and what do your ears hear?"

The Spearwielder stepped gingerly over to the water wheel, her boots sinking slightly into the ground where the ash was thickest. She let her hand rest on an unburned plank of wood and closed her eyes, breathing deeply.

There was no real inside or outside of the mill house, now – no walls and no roof, nothing standing higher than her ankles bar the surviving remnant of the water wheel. But it was unmistakably the same place – the air was thick with her memories and she gasped and had to lean against the mill to steady herself for a moment, cursing her weakness.

"Hey!"

Balsa spun, hand reaching for her spear, to see a boy staring at her. He was perhaps fifteen or sixteen years old, her height or nearly so, spindly. He wore a raged _samue _of gray and blue, thin ankles showing at the cuffs. Hand me downs, too small now – a farmer's son. His face looked familiar, but the Spearwielder couldn't be sure. Noting his look of alarm she quickly released her spear and smiled. "You startled me."

The boy relaxed, then his face brightened in recognition. "You used to live here!"

"What?"

"Yeah, you did!" the boy nodded, pleased with himself. "You and that boy. Before the place burned down."

"Yes."

"What happened to you? Everyone thought you died in the fire, but they never found any bodies."

"We'd already left." Balsa replied carefully. Though to her knowledge there were no bounties on her head in Yogo – for a change – a warrior's caution still pervaded her to the core. "I'm sad to see it like this."

"Yeah, me too. We used to get our millet ground here. My dad makes me walk like four miles to do it now!"

"Sorry." Balsa smiled.

"Well – I'm glad you're not dead." The boy replied grudgingly.

"Me too."

"Where's your son?"

"What?" Balsa felt a lurch in her gut at the question.

"Your son. We used to play in the paddies sometimes. He scolded us when we caught the frogs. Said they were trying to catch their dinner. Weird kid."

"He wasn't my son." The Spearwielder said softly. "I was…taking care of him for someone. For a while."

"He was nice, I guess." The farmer's son mused. "Kinda stiff, but he was OK. Chagum! That was his name, right? Like the prince!"

"Like the prince." Balsa smiled.

"He's not with you anymore, then?"

"Nope."

"Is he OK?"

"I hope so." The Spearwielder whispered.

"Too bad – I thought maybe he was coming back to live here. Are you moving back? You gonna rebuild the mill?"

"I'm afraid not. I was just passing by and stopped to take a look."

"Damn! I still gotta walk all that way… Millet's heavy you know!"

"Sorry."

"You sure?"

"I'm sure." Balsa retrieved her pack and re-secured it.

"Well – anyway, glad you aren't dead." The boy turned to go. "If you see that kid again, tell him he ruined our fun, will you?"

"What?"

"Everybody feels too guilty to catch the stupid frogs anymore! Now we just watch 'em eat dragonflies all night. It's pretty boring."

Balsa laughed, and was startled at the sound of it. "I'll tell him if I see him. But I don't think that's going to happen." She took one last look at the ruined house and mill and sighed, then trudged up the path, nodding at the farmer's son as she passed him. "Carrying all that millet will make you good and strong. Good luck to you."

*****************************************************************************

Every day, he looked.

He wouldn't see anything, of course. From where he stood outside his hut, the Aogiri range was a far-off wall of mist and rock. The ragged track that led from the mountains and down through the rice fields to town was hidden by thick forest and the large escarpment of rock that made Tanda's little meadow so hard to find. But still – he looked, never seeing anything bar the impassive rock and trees. It was just who Tanda was.

The medicine seller dumped water from the bowl he was carrying into the small pond that fronted his hut and wiped his brow against the summer heat. The fierce looking totem statues that had been built here hundreds of years before Tanda's birth stood impassively as if guarding his domain, their sun-bleached stone surfaces reflecting the burning rays off their pocked surfaces.

It would have to be soon. If it was to be this year, anyway.

Much longer and the weather at the high passes would have turned, making travel impossible. Even for her. Even as the sun beat down and temperate autumn would fall on the Yogo Peninsula, at those great heights the very depths of wintry hell would have descended. How much longer did she have – three weeks, perhaps? A month?

If it was to be this year, that is.

It had been two years, the last time. Two years gone, and then less than a year in Yogo before Balsa had turned right back around and left again. Left_ him_ again. Being who she was, that's all. He was no part of that, the healer knew. It was just who Balsa was.

But it had been a hell of a year. For once, Tanda had been a part of all the incredible events that seemed to follow his childhood friend like a loyal dog. It had been a year of strong emotions – of _gisho_, and mystery, and warm moments by the fire at the little mill house in the rice paddies. Of shared concern and fierce affection for the gentle and beautiful boy that had literally fallen into their lives and, just as quickly, been snatched away from them.

It had been a year of violence too, of course – of fear and injury and long, exhausting days and nights on the run. Strange allies and enemies at every turn and once in a century events, and creatures more terrifying that anything one with no connection to the other world could even imagine existed.

Tanda had never had a year remotely like it. And never a year in which he felt more alive. More connected with the earth around him and the hidden world beneath and alongside it, and more connected with the mate and father that dwelled inside him always, yearning to break free of circumstance and become the man Tanda wanted to be.

And he'd never felt closer to Balsa, either.

And then, when it was over, Chagum was gone from their lives utterly. Balsa packed her gear and left, yet again, as though nothing was different. Racing off through the Aogiri before the weather turned and Tanda was back at his hut, grinding medicinal plants and staring at mountains. It was almost as if the entire year had been a dream, so remote did it seem from the mundane details of his life now – but a dream that was more real than his waking life. Was that possible? For all the strange things Tanda knew _were_ possible, that wasn't one of them. This was who he was and this was his life, plain and simple.

With one last glance at the distant Misty Blue Mountains, the healer turned and disappeared back into his hut.

******************************************************************************

If Balsa had expected to return to the Yogo that she remembered – and even the Spearwielder wasn't sure if that was case – she was surely disappointed. Everything had changed, and she felt more a stranger in this land than she had since her first days there with Jiguro.

The odd part of it was that the land itself hadn't really changed very much. The rice terraces were still beautifully verdant and productive. Ougi still sat in its bowl at the heart of the Aoyumi valley, bustling and loud and boisterously alive. The complex of palaces and towers and temples behind the imperial walls still looked over the town balefully.

So why was everything so different, now?

For starters, Balsa had money. She'd always had pockets of it hidden away in various places for emergencies, of course – a practice that had saved her serious difficulty on more than one occasion when protecting Chagum. Balsa had been very well paid as a bodyguard, given that she was the best in any land at the job – while not wealthy she would have been able to live for a few years off what she'd earned before meeting Chagum. There wasn't much to spend money on in Kanbal either – clearing Jiguro's name had been no small job, but the cost had not come in gold.

So, as a result of her extended absence, Balsa had not touched the extensive reward that had been given her in the wake of Chagum's safe deliverance back into his father's hands. Some of it had been left with Tanda for safe keeping, some to refill her diminished emergency caches around the valley – one could never be too careful – and some given to Touya and Saya in thanks for their selfless contribution to the effort to save Chagum's life and safely see the water spirit delivered.

So, for the first time in her life, the Spearwielder found herself lacking an imperative. She was back, her task in Kanbal fulfilled. But what was to be done now? What, in short, was she to do with her life?

There was the obvious, of course – but she'd been back for three weeks now and still hadn't been to Tanda's hut.

_You should go._ She told herself. _Are you turning into a coward now, after all the battles you survived?_

Balsa wanted to see Tanda, there was no question of that. But would he want to see her? Every time she left, the going – and the returning – was more difficult. There had been talk of a marriage proposal when she'd left the last time – and she wouldn't have blamed the healer if he'd accepted. He'd already been more patient than anyone had a right to expect. He might even be married already – a year was a long time.

_That's not likely._ Even still, it would be a hard thing to walk in on, wouldn't it? At the very least there would be hurt feelings and questions that Balsa did not have ready answers to.

But now she was rested, her journey behind her and her body restored, and three weeks of good food and a comfortable futon at a ryokan were beginning to make Balsa feel soft. It was time to get on with the business of living.

Touya and Saya lived in a small apartment on the eastern edge of Lower Ougi, just a stone's throw from the Torimei River. Tanda had secured it for them with the some of the reward money, and it had been a perfect spot from which Touya could hustle clients for his errand-running. When Balsa arrived at their door on an overcast afternoon the boy's message board was largely filled with orders – he was doing well, apparently. She smiled at the thought – the best errand-runner in Lower Ougi indeed.

When she knocked on their door the Spearwielder expected no answer, given the spate of orders – but almost at once a child's voice called out "Just a moment!" and the door slid open to reveal a beautiful young girl in a simple blue but spotlessly clean kimono. "Balsa!"

"Saya!" Balsa could hardly believe her eyes – Saya had always been striking, but could this really be the same little girl she'd known? Her boyish figure now had a most distinctly girlish cast – taller and curvier than she'd been before. "I can't believe how much you've grown."

"Saya!" The girl threw her arms around the woman and half-carried her into the room. "We were starting to think we wouldn't see you – it's almost autumn! I'm so glad you're back."

The interior of the little one-room house was spotless – Saya's work, no doubt. "Me too. You look beautiful, Saya. Are you well?"

"Of course." The girl laughed. "We're living very well, thanks to you. How long have you been back?"

"Not long. Is Touya working?"

"He'll be back soon. Would you like some tea?"

"Thanks." Balsa sat cross legged on a cushion at the small brazier in the center of the room and the girl set a kettle of water to boil. "Saya, how… How is Tanda, then? Have you seen him lately?"

The girl looked up, eyes wide. "You haven't seen him yet?"

"No – I came here first."

"He's fine, Balsa. He's in the city right now."

"Is he, then?"

"Yes – he stops by here to check on us every time he comes down to sell his wares. He's been here for two days, but I think he's going back tomorrow."

There was a commotion at the door, and a broad-shouldered young man tromped into the room, a satchel thrown over his shoulder and a wrapped parcel in his hand. "Saya, have you seen the board? I'll be working till midnight at this – Balsa!"

"Hello, Touya." The Spearwielder smiled. He, too, had grown – the Yakue boy was still not tall, but his arms and shoulders had filled out and his face lost some of its moonlike quality, his buck teeth less noticeable. It would have been a stretch to call him handsome, but he had grown into his features a bit.

"Nee-san!" the teenager grinned broadly and dropped his parcels with a huge thud. He dropped to the floor on the cushion next to Balsa and took her hand in his. "We didn't think you were coming back this year."

"Well – this is home, now. As close as anywhere is. How's business, Mister errand-runner?"

"Great! We used some of the money you gave to buy a cart, so I can do bigger jobs now. And Saya's taking in clothes for mending and sewing and all that stuff."

"Really? I didn't know you were good at that, Saya."

"I'm not." The girl mumbled. "It's just something to make a few extra rugals."

"Eh – she's great at it."

"Hmm… "What a fine young man you've become, Touya. Quite the responsible adult."

"Nee-san…" the boy blushed deeply and looked away.

"And you, Saya. Any more marriage proposals come your way?"

The girl paused while pouring the tea, blushing to match Touya's. "A few."

"We're not even listening, Balsa nee-san." Touya declared. "Saya's not hearing any proposals until she says so – period."

Balsa laughed. "Well, to look at her you'd best be ready to stand by that – I suspect you're going to be turning away a lot of suitors."

"Well… That's fine, then – let 'em come."

"Touya, speaking of proposals…" Balsa took a sip of her tea and smiled sheepishly. "Has Tanda-"

"Of course not! What – you haven't seen Tanda yet?"

"No."

"He's in town now! I bet I can go find him and-"

"That's not necessary." Balsa interrupted.

"But-"

"You don't need to chase after him all over Lower Ougi, Touya – I know how to find him when I'm…ready."

"Well – if you say so, Balsa nee-san. But he sure hasn't accepted any proposals."

"Of course not!" Saya piped in.

"Well – that's interesting." Balsa smiled. "Is the idea really so preposterous? He's almost thirty now, you know!"

"But Balsa…"

"None of us are getting any younger… Least of all growing weeds like you two! You've settled down quite nicely, it seems to me."

"Thanks to you and Tanda." Touya sighed.

"Thanks to yourselves, you mean – I didn't have much to do with it except causing you a whole lot of trouble."

"We'd go through fire and water for you, Balsa nee-san."

"I know you would." The Spearwielder patted the boy's hand, drained her tea and stood. "But I don't intend to do any more asking, so that won't be necessary. I saw that overflowing message board outside – I should leave you to it. Don't want the best errand-runner is Lower Ougi to have angry customers because of me."

"Are you staying around for a while, Balsa nee-san?"

"I think so – I have nowhere special to be."

"Balsa." Saya whispered meekly. "Are you going to see Tanda?"

The Spearwielder glanced at the girl briefly and nodded. "Of course I will. Don't worry, you two – I'll be around."

*************************************************************************

It was about time to go back. One more night, maybe – but tomorrow for sure. Three days in town was about all Tanda the Healer had an appetite for these days.

Business was certainly good, there was no denying that. The Mikado's money hadn't done a whole lot for Tanda, truthfully, as few of his true ambitions could be achieved with any help from the stuff. But his reputation had certainly grown as a result of word getting around that he'd been to the palace and been rewarded by the Emperor himself. He had more customers than he could satisfy, even had he spent most of his time in the city. As it was, he had to reject half the orders than came his way on this trip. There weren't enough hours in his day to gather and process the plants and herbs to fill them.

Of course, there were other reasons for Tanda to be in a sour mood on this particular visit.

It was late, and Tanda's meal of burdock and chicken stew was settling in his stomach when he decided to take one last look at the board and head to the baths. After that, if nothing was urgent he would retire to his inn and leave first thing in the morning for the peace of his hut. And anything – or anyone – else could be damned.

He strode towards the board and looked over the orders carefully. Most of the remaining requests were for general tonics, aphrodisiacs and the like – there weren't any acute crises to be seen among them. Well, fair enough – he quickly scribbled a note to let his clients know that he was leaving, posted it and turned to head off to the _sento_ to soak away the stress and fatigue of the day.

"Business is good, I see."

Tanda gasped, stopping dead in his tracks. She sat at one of the tables in a small tonkatsu-ya with an empty bowl in front of her, staring at him with unblinking dark eyes. His heart soared and unable to check himself he smiled at the sight of her, and hated himself for it almost immediately. "Balsa."

"Tanda."

The healer sighed and shrugged off his pack, setting it on the table next to the remains of her dinner. It was Balsa – as real and as tangible as ever, right there in front of him as if she'd never left. She was the same – a few more lines around the corners of her eyes, maybe, but the same – still lean, hard and unyielding as the Aogiri. But soft where she should be, too. He sat across from her. "Were you intending to tell me you were back, or just hope I didn't notice?"

The Spearwielder looked startled. "What?"

"One of the farmers I met on the way down the hill said he'd seen you pass by, what – three weeks ago now?"

"Oh." Balsa said softly. A sad smile tickled the corners of her mouth. "Is he sure it was me?"

"Could have been some other Kanbalese female warrior with a spear, I suppose." The healer replied casually. "They're pretty common near Yakue villages, I hear."

"Tanda-"

"You don't owe me an explanation – its fine. I have no right to expect one from you. I'm just happy to see you made it back in one piece."

"Tanda…"

"No new wounds for me to sew up this time? No new scars for me?"

"Well…" Balsa smiled sheepishly and tugged her tunic down in back to reveal a scar the length of his middle finger just beneath her right shoulder-blade. "Nothing that amounts to much."

Tanda gaped. "Balsa! How did this happen?'

"Does it matter?"

"No – No, I suppose it doesn't." the healer scowled as he examined the wound, almost swooning as a waft of Balsa's scent triggered a flood of overpowering memories all at once. "This is…sloppy work."

She shrugged. "I didn't have access to the best healer at the time."

Shaking his head, Tanda reached into his bag and pulled out a small clamshell jar. "That's what, five months old? Six?"

"About six."

"Put this on it twice a day – it'll help the scar heal and it won't pain you so much when the weather changes."

"Thanks."

"Well, then…" Tanda forced a smile to his face. "I'm very glad to see you're well, Balsa – just one scar is a very good year for you. It _is_ just the one, isn't it?"

"More or less."

"More or less. Well – fine. You know where to find me if you have need of a good healer, so-"

"Tanda!" she spat. "Don't be a child."

"What did you say?"

"Are we really going to do this, Tanda? I'd have thought we were too old for silly games by now."

"I think you would have to be the one to answer that." The healer replied coolly.

"Damn!"

"Is that all?"

"I don't know." The Spearwielder ran a hand across her face, looking extremely tired. "I don't know…"

"Well."

"If you're determined to be like this, Tanda, there's not much point in talking." And indeed, they didn't talk for several long moments, each staring at the table before them. "Haven't gotten any smarter, have you?"

"Balsa!"

"Have you heard anything of Chagum, then?"

Tanda's head snapped up. "What?"

Balsa frowned. "I know, it's not as if you'll have spoken or anything... I just wondered what you hear of his welfare."

All of the hardness drained from the healer's face instantly. "Oh, Balsa – you didn't hear?"

"Didn't hear what?"

Tanda sighed. "Three weeks you're here, and you don't come to see me… You don't ask after Chagum – what is wrong with you, Balsa? How can someone be so formidable and so utterly senseless at the same time?"

Her face was a mask of anxiety. "What is it, then? Is he all right?"

"Balsa…" The healer reached out and squeezed her calloused palm in his hand. "It's his mother, Balsa – the Second Empress. She died."

"What?"

"She died, Balsa."

A look of stunned disbelief cascaded over the Spearwielder's face. "When? How?"

Tanda rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Let me see… I guess it would have been four or five months ago, now. In the spring. That's when the funeral was, anyway."

Balsa's hand snaked into her tunic, fingering the small blue stone necklace she wore. "How did it happen, Tanda?"

"I don't know exactly – they don't tell commoners everything that happens up there." The healer replied, his voice a soft whisper on the evening air. "There was talk of a sudden illness, but that's all I heard. I went to the funeral procession. I was hoping to get a glance at Chagum, but… I never got close enough."

"Chagum!" Balsa covered her eyes with one hand and pounded the table with the other. "Forgive me, Chagum."

"Forgive _you_? For what, Balsa? What could you possibly have done?"

"I… I don't know. But Chagum, he's-"

"There's nothing you could have done."

"He's all alone up there." She whispered. "He lost his mother and I was in Kanbal, and no one was there to be with him."

Tanda leaned in close. "I know, Balsa – it broke my heart thinking of him. It still does – not a day goes by that I don't grieve for him and worry about him. But what could any of us do? He's not part of our world, anymore. He may as well be on the moon, as far away from us as he is."

"I promised to protect him. I promised to protect him from hurt…"

"And you did." The healer took her chin in hand and stared into her dark eyes. "You saved his life and you saved all of us from suffering a terrible drought. You kept your promise."

"He saved me too." The healer frowned, puzzled. "You've torn me in two with this news, Tanda. I'm broken."

"Life isn't fair, is it? Chagum said it himself."

"I should have thrown him on the back of a horse with me and rode away with him, that very day. She would have understood."

"Balsa… You know Chagum would never have let that happen."

"Why?" Balsa spat bitterly. "Because of his duty to Yogo? Countries are a waste of time, Tanda – an excuse for soldiers to kill each other, that's all."

"Maybe." Tanda sighed. "But Chagum would never have gone, and you know it. No more than he would have let the Nyunga Ro Im perish and the land fall into drought. That's not the sort of boy he is."

Balsa looked away, towards the palace grounds in the distance. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Chagum."

Tanda stroked her cheek softly. "I know he thinks about you, Balsa. I know you were there with him when he needed you."

She grabbed him by the wrist and gently pushed his hand away. "I'm sorry not to have come to you sooner, Tanda. I've made a complete mess of things."

"Did you succeed at your task, at least? In Kanbal?"

The Spearwielder barked a short laugh. "To salvage the honor of a dead man? I did – though it's small comfort to me now." She reached for her spear. "I can't be here now – not for a while. There's too many thoughts in my head."

"Come with me – to the hut. Rest, and gather yourself. No one will bother you out there. I'm leaving in the morning."

She paused, considering. "Soon. Not now. I need to be completely alone for a while."

"Two months on the Kanbal road wasn't long enough for you to be alone?" Tanda laughed bitterly. "Where will you go? What will you do?"

"I don't know."

Tanda's eyes narrowed. "Are you thinking of trying to go to him?" Seeing the flicker in her eyes, he nodded his head. "You are. What can it possibly accomplish, Balsa?"

"Probably nothing." She admitted. "But how can I not?"

"Listen. Just _listen,_ all right? There's no way you'll even get in to see him, Balsa. Not even you could get past all those guards on your own, and the Mikado certainly won't allow you to see him voluntarily. He's already tried to kill you for the better part of a year! If you try and fight your way in, you'll die – they'll kill you for certain."

"There would be worse ways to die." She whispered.

"Don't you even think about throwing away your life!" Tanda growled. "Don't spit in the faces of everyone who fought with you and cared for you and… And stitched you back together every time you limped home bleeding and cut to ribbons. They didn't do that so you could commit suicide!"

"Tanda-"

"Think about Chagum, damn it. Think about what it would mean to him, knowing that you'd died trying to fight your way into the palace – to do what? It's not as if he'd walk out the gate with you now, even if he could. He's not the sort of boy who would do that, Balsa – you know that better than anyone! If you want to do something for him, stay alive. The way he stayed alive, even thinking he'd never see his mother again. But he did, didn't he?"

"His mother…" Balsa shook her head, scowling. "Of all the things to happen…"

"Maybe a miracle will happen someday. It's possible. I think about Chagum every day, and I worry about him every day. But fate's taken him away from us, Balsa. All we can do is stay alive and think of him."

"You're right."

"What?"

"You're right. I'm utterly senseless. I don't have the vaguest idea how to do anything except wield a spear."

"Don't put words in my mouth." The healer sighed. "So – will you come back to the meadow with me, Balsa?"

"No – no I won't. Not yet."

"Balsa!"

"I'm sorry, Tanda. I need time. I won't go to the palace and get myself killed, I promise. But I still need time."

"But what will you _do?_"

"Who knows. Maybe I'll take a job."

"A job? As a _yojimbo_, you mean?"

"I saw a block on the board, by the river… A caravan to Tosei looking for guards. A month, maybe five weeks. I could do that in my sleep – plenty of time to clear my head."

"Tosei?" Tanda laughed bitterly. "Why run away again, Balsa? If its money I still have half of your reward up at the hut."

"It's not running away, _Baka._ And it's not about money, either. I have plenty of that for quite a while."

"Well – _what,_ then?"

"You wouldn't understand."

"I wouldn't understand." The healer nodded. "Naturally, I wouldn't understand. After all of it, Balsa – after everything – you still won't come to me when you need to heal something besides your body? You'll still run off to be on your own?"

"I'm sorry." Balsa whispered. "And I'm tired of saying it. But it's true. My life is different from yours. There are things I carry with me that no one else does. I have to deal with it any way I can, Tanda – it's all I can do." She grabbed her spear and stood. "I'll be back, I promise. I'll come to you at the hut, but not now. Stay well."

"Balsa." She stared expectantly. "At least come to my inn tonight. Please. You've been gone almost two years."

The Spearwielder hesitated a moment, then lowered her head. "I can't, I'm sorry. Not now."

"So be it." The healer reached out and stroked her cheek once, then again. "Please don't get yourself killed."

"If you insist." She smiled, tied her spear in place and was gone, disappearing from sight as she left the lantern light of the tonkatsu-ya.

Tanda stared after her for several moments, then reached for his pack. "What an idiot you are, Tanda. What a prized fool of a man. Even a child will fear the fire after his hand is burned once. Who still reaches into the flame, over and over? You, _Baka_." Still muttering, the healer shrugged his pack into place and strode off into the night.


	7. Yona ro Gai

The main road from Lower Ougi to Ougi no Kami forked just below the cluster of government buildings that fronted the imperial grounds. To the left lay the road to the Aoyumi and, on its western bank, the Tosei Highway. Straight, the seat of power and the Imperial Palaces.

Balsa the Spearwielder stood for a long time at the intersection, staring straight ahead at the massive gate that hid most of the buildings behind it from view. The very tip of the Star Palace could be seen, along with the pagodas of a few of the taller Palace buildings. Whether one of them was the Second Palace Balsa couldn't be sure with this obstructed view. A large contingent of royal guardsmen clustered in front of the gate, and the glint of their helmets could be seen in the window slats of the towers on either side.

It was so close, she could almost feel his presence. She'd walked many hundreds of miles through hostile weather over unimaginably rough terrain to reach this point, weeks and weeks of dangerous and bone-wearying travel through hell itself. The palace buildings were a mere half a mile away, a level stroll along smooth, tight packed dirt that a carriage could traverse smoothly enough not to spill a cup of tea inside.

It was a knife in the gut.

"I haven't forgotten." The Spearwielder whispered to no one in particular, and turned down the left-hand road.

******

Tanda squinted up at the dazzling blue sky, watching a small circle of crows noisily bickering overhead. A wolf howled in the distance but the healer didn't even break his stride – he'd shared these hills with wolves for the better part of his life and never feared them for a moment. They were creatures of this place, just as he was. As all the Yakue were.

Almost home, now. Another lonely trip to the meadow, another stint of waiting. For how long, this time? Next time? How many more next times could he afford? He was twenty-nine now, not a boy by any stretch of the imagination. There _were _other girls in the world – not Yogoese, perhaps, not for a Yakue like him - but Yakue girls. Foreigners, too, who had no stake in the long-standing divisions of the New Yogo Empire. There were villages, even Toumi Village, his grandfather's home. There were unmarried women there, certainly eager enough to be attached to a man with a marketable skill and a thriving trade in a respectable profession.

So why, then, was he going back to his little hut to wait for someone who might never come?

***************************************************************************

It was only after she'd been on the Tosei Highway for a few nights that Balsa realized that the caravan master was known to her – and she to him.

He'd been much younger, of course – and she a girl of 12. It had been a caravan then, too, and Jiguro working as guard to put food in her belly. The man had been a yak driver then, perhaps eighteen or nineteen years-old and clean shaven. Now he was a burly man in charge of twenty wagons and sported a robust beard tinged with gray. But there was no doubt it was him – in an instant she remembered the flush she'd felt at the sight of his bright green eyes and auburn hair. She couldn't say for certain it had been her first crush, but it was the first one she could still remember. How had she not seen it immediately?

The Spearwielder wondered at first if she'd passed unrecognized when he hired her, but of course, how many female _yojimbo _were there in Yogo, especially wielding a spear? She'd just begun her training with Jiguro then, the man finally relenting after months and months of begging him to teach her. It was mostly mimicry at that point – copying the moves Jiguro showed her as exactly as she could – but it must have been quite a sight to the drivers around the fire at night. She remembered blushing as they cheered and shouted encouragement to her, and silently looking for the face of the green-eyed driver in the crowd.

He was outside his tent re-soling his boot with a yak skin patch when she finally approached him. He looked up at her approach and smiled. "I was wondering when you were going to say something."

She returned his smile. "It was Geta, wasn't it?"

"You remember – I'm flattered!"

"Why didn't you say something when you hired me?"

He shrugged. "I was figured I was lucky enough, getting the finest warrior on the peninsula for the price of a stripling hired blade. Why didn't _you_?"

"To be honest, I didn't recognize you at first. It was a long time ago, and you've changed."

"As we all have." Geta nodded. "And you've become as fearsome with the spear as your father was, or so I hear."

Balsa let that pass uncorrected, seeing no point in disabusing the man. "He was in his prime when you knew him. No one could challenge him."

"Does he no longer wield the spear?"

"He's dead."

"I'm sorry." Balsa nodded thanks. "To be honest, I was surprised a warrior of your reputation would take a boring job like this."

"Honest work is honest work." She nodded again. "Good night - I'm glad to see you well. If there are only problems, keep your men out of my way and let me handle it."

_He's attractive. Still attractive_. Balsa mused as she slowly patrolled the perimeter of the caravan. It was an odd thought – she hadn't looked at a man that way in a long time. She laughed at the thought of it – a damaged and weather-beaten warrior still enflamed by the same passions as a girl of twelve. Had he made her feel young again so easily?

There had been a thought too, just briefly, of a dalliance in the confines of his test. As the caravan rolled on towards Tosei he'd been friendly and sometimes a little flirtatious – though Balsa couldn't be sure she wasn't flattering herself – but never pushed matters beyond that. It did feel good to have the attention of a handsome man like that, and she was the same flesh and blood as that little girl who'd been entranced by his eyes all those years ago. It would have been easy enough – such things happened all the time. It was the way of men and women.

But almost as soon as the temptation flared in her, she realized that she could never do it. As long as Tanda was waiting for her, the idea was unthinkable.

That was a strange and absurd thing. She would never have expected such restraint from him, and there was no agreement explicitly or implicitly spoken between them. She'd been away from Yogo more often than she'd been there over the last five years. Yet, it was what it was. There would be no dalliances in tents on this job.

That thought more or less freed from her consciousness – if a little reluctantly - much of the rest of the caravan was spent in morose remembrance of Jiguro.

It was impossible not to think of him. Many of the jobs he'd taken to support them were guarding caravans – not the best paying work and often dangerous, but a job where a little girl could be dragged along with him. As Jiguro had no marketable skills besides wielding the spear, that sort of work was about the best he could hope for with her in tow.

She'd taken this last long journey to Kanbal – and she realized now that she could think of no reason that would bring her back again – in order to clear Jiguo's name. His name, soiled by his role in defying the throne by saving her life, and by the slaying of his comrades in defense of it. It was a debt she owed to him – the only one, probably, that she had it within her power to repay. She owed the man far too much for the score to ever be even.

And in that, her journey had been successful. But now, as the days with the caravan dragged into weeks and the summer became early autumn, she drew little satisfaction from it. He was gone and never to return – what did he care of his name in the place that had robbed him of his dignity and self-respect? But it had been easier to pay an imagined debt to the dead than to face her helplessness in making things right with the living.

Tanda would be waiting for her on her return, of this Balsa had no doubt. She half-wished that he wouldn't wait, that he would move on with his life and end her paralysis. But that wouldn't be the case – she knew it in her heart. And it was within their power to decide how to live their lives, at least, even if they were too foolish to take advantage of that freedom.

Chagum wasn't so lucky.

Balsa found that she understood Jiguro better now than she ever had when he was alive. For that she owed a great debt to Chagum, though he was doubtless unaware of it. And now, helpless to do anything for him but silently mourn for him, she understood how helpless Jiguro had felt in the latter days of his life, powerless to undo the necessary acts of violence that had tortured his soul. Where Chagum was concerned the Spearwielder had no course of action open to her now except to suffer in silence and live with her regret.

When the uneventful caravan was finally at an end, having been attacked by nothing more sinister than a small pack of wild dogs after their goats, summer had faded into full autumn and the leaves on the maples had started to take on their brilliant reds and golds of the season. She accepted her pay –and a somewhat rueful smile - from Geta and wandered through a light rain into Lower Ougi in the late afternoon tired and smelling strongly of the road.

She thought briefly about an inn, but instead found her eyes wandering towards the eastern mountains. The Spearwielder yearned for a bath, and felt a nagging duty to check in on Touya and Saya. But the pull of the small hut in the meadow was stronger. If she left immediately, she could be there before nightfall.

One way or another, there was at least a choice to be made – that was something to be grateful for. All she had to do was make it.

**************************************************************************

The air was thick and heavy in the foothills of the eastern mountains, a light mist having slowly increased in intensity over the course of the afternoon into a steady drizzle. The drops sent little waves among the lily pads on the pond, causing them to shimmer slightly in the fading light. The full moon could be seen through the haze low in the eastern horizon, beginning its evening's journey.

_Double moon_. Tanda noted. _Two nights in a row_. _That's not a good auger._

He ducked back into his hut, tossing his bundle of herbs to the ground before the brazier in the center of the structure. With a sigh he set about the process of chopping vegetables for the evening meal, the act as natural and unthinking as drawing a breath. He'd done it every night since he'd returned to the hut five weeks earlier, and he'd do it tomorrow. Later, after the meal, there would be a short interval to work on his spells, a cup of valerian tea to soothe his system before bed, and sleep.

Tanda felt a little guilty about not going down into town for such an extended period – there was a risk of annoying some of his regular customers and always the possibility of a serious illness that required treatment. But Touya could always fetch him if anything serious enough happened, and the healer had felt little desire to immerse himself in the sea of people in Ougi of late.

There was that other reason, too, though he felt a fool for even considering it. Balsa would surely wait for him if she found him absent – that or come down into town looking for him. It was absurd to wait around the hut for her – utterly devoid of logic or common sense.

Tanda preferred not to think about the implications of that.

Well – at least there would be a good supply of herbs and medicines prepared for his next trip – whenever that was. More than he could carry on his back, but enough to fill a good percentage of the orders that would doubtless be waiting for him.

When the creak of his door reached his ears, the healer expected to see Touya standing there, or perhaps even Torogai – an occasional visitor to the hut during one of the mysterious travels she refused to discuss with him. The woman who stood in the doorway, dripping slowly onto his floor, sniffing the air and meeting him with an awkward smile, was decidedly neither. "Is there no meat for supper tonight, then?"

"Balsa!"

She dropped her bundles and untied her spear with a groan. "Miserable out there. I probably should have stopped down in town, but-"

"Hang on, I'll get you something to dry yourself." Tanda fetched a rough woolen blanket and handed it to the Spearwielder. "Get yourself dry and sit by the fire. I'll get you some warm broth."

"Thank you."

As always, Tanda's long-nurtured anger was immediately swept away in relief at seeing Balsa after a long absence. Just as predictably, when that had subsided a bit and his rational mind gotten its teeth into the moment he felt a peevish irritation blossoming. It was a dance with himself that he knew all too well. "Are you hurt anywhere?"

She laughed softly. "Not this time. Nothing worse than a few callouses."

"Well. That's a nice change." He spooned off some of the simmering liquid from his stew pot into a small bowl and handed her the steaming contents. "Not done yet, but the broth will warm you." She accepted the bowl with a nod and he knelt next to her. "What've you been doing with yourself, Balsa?"

"Before I answer, give me your promise."

The healer frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Let's just agree that you have plenty of reason to be angry with me, and avoid pretending everything is fine."

"Balsa-"

"I'm tired." She sighed. "I'm more tired now than I've ever been, I think. Every old wound aches like the morning after I received it. Too tired to waste any more time on nonsense. Let's just agree to tell each other what we really think and live with the consequences."

Tanda's mouth opened in surprise. "I don't understand. Did something happen to you?"

"Not really. Just too much time inside my own head. So – will you give me your promise?"

"If you want. Though I admit, it seems odd that it would be _you_ asking such things of_ me_."

"Please don't, Tanda. I don't have the strength for it."

This Balsa seemed odd, different. Almost beaten-down. The healer found himself frightened at the thought of it. "Are you sure you're all right, Balsa?"

"Your promise?"

"All right, then. I promise. Now tell me what you've been doing that's brought you to me in a state like this."

She smiled weakly. "I did promise I'd come to you, didn't I?"

He returned her smile and placed his hand over hers. "You did."

"I went on that caravan – the one I told you about."

"To Tosei?"

She nodded. "It was completely uneventful –they'd have been as successful with a sheepdog guarding them. I met someone there who knew Jiguro. And me, when I was young."

"Really?"

"That was strange… But only for a while. Mostly, I was bored. I found myself hoping that we would be attacked, after a time. So that I could fight. Isn't that interesting?" Balsa glanced at Tanda, but the healer said nothing. "I have the scent of blood so deep in my bones that no amount of time or distraction will cleanse it. Fighting is the only way I know how to live."

"That's not true, Balsa."

"I made you promise not to pretend, didn't I? So only fair that I should do the same. I live to fight, Tanda – I've accepted it. That was the reason I went to Kanbal – it was an excuse to fight for something that felt important to me. I didn't do it for Jiguro – I did it for myself." The Spearwielder was silent for a moment, the bubbling of the stew pot and the crackling of the fire seemingly a riot of noise in the little hut. "Can you accept that, Tanda?"

"I don't accept it to be true."

She shook her head. "I can find meaning in nothing else."

"I don't believe that's all there is to it, Balsa. To _you_. You're more than that."

Balsa sipped from her bowl. "There's only been one time that I've ever done anything just for the sake of the doing – besides fighting. Only one time and even that started out as a job. I fought, but that was only because it was necessary. I would have gladly lived quietly and seen that through to the end even if I'd never had to pick up my spear." She laughed softly. "That's over now. For a warrior, to be able to do nothing to change what tortures you is the cruelest possible punishment. Jiguro knew that."

"It doesn't have to be that way, you know." Tanda felt his frustration welling in him, the helplessness that he knew all too well. "You're doing this to yourself – no one is punishing you. You can leave all this behind you and be whatever you want to be."

"I can't, actually." Balsa set her bowl down and grabbed both the healer's hands, much to his surprise. "So this is what I can offer you, Tanda. This and no more. I'm not going to pretend differently – you deserve better than that. I know it isn't very much, but neither of us is getting any younger and I'm not going to let you waste your life waiting for something that will never happen."

"Balsa, what… What are you saying, exactly? Are you leaving?"

"I'm giving you the choice." She said evenly. "But I think you should know that the life you would choose is only going to be half a life. I'll never be more than I am right now – the person you've known since we were children. Don't imagine that I ever will be."

"I don't believe that." He whispered.

"Then choose differently. I refuse to be held responsible for making you miserable."

"Balsa, I-" A sharp pain resounded in his skull, as if he had been struck. The healer took his head in his hands, panting.

"Tanda! What is it, are you all right?"

The pain receded, and now it was as if there were voices in his head, calling out to him. He lurched to his feet and stumbled towards the door of the hut. "Tanda!"

"It's the _Yona Ro Gai_." He whispered. "The water dwellers. It's a message from Nayug."

"Nayug?" Balsa's astonished shout was as if from a great distance. "Tanda – wait!"

"The pond." Tanda teetered outside and to the edge of the small pond at the center of the vale. He dropped to his knees. "I have to listen."

"Tanda, be careful."

Nodding, the healer began chanting softly in the Yakue language. Then, quickly, he took a deep breath and plunged his face below the surface of the pond.

Though the little body of water was shallow and murky, Tanda's eyes beheld an endless blue depth, serenely beautiful and terrifying, seeming to disappear into the very center of the earth. Nayug. After a moment he could see a strange creature swimming towards him, one he had seen once before – in the Aoyumi, deep in the mountains near Blue Lake. It was a _Yona Ro Gai_.

The creature began speaking to him in its strange, ululating drone. As it did so, a series of images began to appear in Tanda's mind. A great sense of disbelief and then dread to overwhelm him. The creature continued to speak, filling Tanda's mind with its own thoughts. Finally, the healer could take no more and pulled his head from the water, falling onto his back and gasping desperately for air.


	8. Yojimbo

Balsa immediately felt all of her senses on high alert, trained over most of a lifetime to perfect concentration when a threat was present. She shook the healer's body gently. "Tanda! Tanda, can you hear me? Are you all right?" His body was racked by coughing and he took deep, rattling breaths. "Tanda!"

"I'm… fine. Give me… a second."

She waited until his breathing had calmed a little, then helped him into a sitting position, wiping water from his eyes gently with her sleeve. "What happened? Was it like that time in the river?"

"Yes." Tanda rasped. "A message. From Torogai."

"Torogai?" Balsa whispered.

"Balsa, it's…" a bout of coughing, and the healer spit brackish water onto the ground. "Balsa, its Chagum."

Her hands were at his shoulders immediately, firmly. "What?"

Tanda winced. "Chagum. He's… He's in danger. Terrible…"

"What kind of danger? How does Torogai know?"

"I don't know – but she does. I listened as long as I could… He's to be killed. Murdered." The healer shut his eyes tightly. "By the Mikado."

"What?" Balsa felt her entire being shot through with a terrified, electrifying rage. "The Mikado? Why?"

"I don't know. She didn't waste time with details. He's on the northern road… On a journey. There's to be an attack of some kind… I didn't get much else."

"The northern road?' Balsa spat. "That's too vague, too vague… Wasn't there anything else, damn it?"

"The Fifth Cloud Castle. I definitely got that – does it mean anything to you? He left the palace this morning. Early." Tanda opened his eyes and met the Spearwielder's gaze. "The Mikado wants him dead – there's more, but I can't make sense of it… Just a sense of wrongness to him. And the Fifth Cloud Castle."

"It's on a bend of the Aoyumi… West of Blue Lake. You're sure that's where he's headed?"

"I'm sure." Tanda nodded grimly. 'That was very clear. But Balsa, they're going to kill him. Tonight."

"Damn!" Balsa spat, helpless frustration sparking inside her. "They could be anywhere on that road. Why is Chagum there – is he fleeing?"

Tanda shook his head. "No. No, that feels wrong, he's not in flight. It's some kind of deception."

"So they'll be traveling at normal speed then, probably – a royal procession." The Spearwielder whispered. "They can't reach that castle in a day's journey – they'll have planned a stop somewhere… There's not much there, no villages. A camp." She balled her hands into fists. "That's where they'll do it. While he's asleep."

"Balsa-"

"Damn it – why don't I have a Kokku horse when I need one! I have to go." She dashed into the hut.

Tanda stumbled after her. "If they're on the northern road, you can get there by going overland, west of Yashiro village. There are trails there that go down to the river, and the northern road is on the far side. It's faster than going down to the river by road."

"Trails?" Balsa was quickly tying her spear in place on her back.

"You remember the way we took to Yashiro, before. After an hour's walk on that route you can go straight down towards the river, between the two round hills to the west. You'll have to bushwhack some but there are game trails through there that go down to the river. It's the fastest way."

"Assuming I don't join the road too far north, and I've already passed them by." Balsa paused in thought. "It'll be close, if they're travelling by oxcart. But I think they'll have made it that far at least. I hope so. So that's what I'll do." Spear in place, she was out the door.

"But Balsa! Even going that way it's still at least four hours to the northern road, even in daylight – at night and in this weather-"

"So I'll do it in two." The Spearwielder spat. "And pray that's good enough."

"And there's no bridge! How will you-"

"I'll swim. It's been mostly dry during the summer – there's no snowmelt yet, and this little shower won't have done much to swell the river. I don't have any choice."

"Balsa, I'll come with you-"

"No - you'll slow me down. I'm sorry, but it's true – and we don't have time to argue. I'd rather get there in time and fight on my own than be too late with an army." She clapped his shoulder. "Take some supplies – a little food, some medical supplies in case there are wounds. Head for Yashiro Village. Once I've got Chagum I'll meet up with you there. I won't leave anyone standing, but I have to assume we'll be followed sooner or later. If we need time to rest and heal, that's as good a place as any." She turned on her heel.

"Balsa! Not even a pack? Take some water at least!"

"It'll just slow me down!"

"Wait!" he hissed. The healer disappeared into the hut and returned a few moments later with a water skin. "One skin at least, you stubborn idiot. What if he's injured?"

"Fine." Balsa took the water from Tanda and tucked it into her belt. "Now go – I'll see you at the village!" Without further ceremony she took off for the hills at a dead run.

"Well – you wanted imperative. You've got it." She muttered to herself as she ran. Unbidden, images began to play in her head – Chagum sleeping, unaware of danger. Assassins creeping into his tent. Screaming, blood – and a look of terror on face as he realized he'd been betrayed by his sole remaining family.

"No!" she barked. Anxiety burned energy – precious energy that could save your life in battle, Balsa knew this well. Energy that could not be spared when a second could be the difference between Chagum's life and death, and she was about to ask her body to do things no human should be able to do.

She stuck to the trail for the first few miles, making long, even strides over the relatively flat terrain. As she pictured the journey in her head, segment by segment, she put the distance to the river and the northern road at roughly fifteen miles. Maybe a bit more. She'd covered such distances unbroken more times than she could remember, but pacing herself had always been the key. No one could cover such distances at a sprint – it simply wasn't possible. The body would break down, spent, after a few miles and the remainder of the journey a tortured slog through the mud of exhaustion.

Yet still, she ran as fast as her legs would carry her.

The light rain was not entirely a bad thing. True, the trail was slick and it would be worse when she veered off it. But the cool drops kept her skin hydrated and helped prevent the Spearwielder from overheating. She even lifted her head to the sky and let the drops moisten her tongue, not wanting to slow down long enough to drink from the water skin.

_That's for Chagum, anyway. If he needs it__._

The two hills came into view to the west, their shadows barely visible in the night sky – and even that thanks only to a patina of moonlight that managed to seep through the overcast. Balsa looked for anything that looked like a game trail off to the side of the more defined one on which she ran, but was unable to pick anything out in the gloom. With a growl, she finally veered off into the brush and made for the low point between the hills.

The terrain wasn't hard going at first, being mostly tall grass and wild onion. Struggling to keep her breathing even she ran down, down until the grass became interspersed with shrub and bush, and the going more difficult. She swore as she felt the thick brush tearing at her legs, almost fell. She pushed forward, expending precious energy fighting her way through taller and taller undergrowth until finally, catching her ankle in a particularly unforgiving barberry, she tumbled to the ground and felt her breath leave her.

The Spearwielder quickly took stock of her body, searching for pains that needed to be respected and trying to keep her attention focused. Nothing was seriously wrong – just a few scratches and a loosened tooth where her face had met the unyielding ground. She was about to push herself to her feet and resume her sprint when she noticed a small gap in the undergrowth that hadn't been visible from eye level – little more than a slight variance in the shade of darkness before her.

"Game trail." Balsa whispered. She stumbled to her feet and darted towards the opening, fighting down exhaustion. The fall had revealed the spearwielder's way but it had also disrupted the rhythm she'd maintained, the almost hypnotic state that had kept her physical exhaustion in check. The first strides were torture, the old wound at her right side throbbed, but she pressed on through it. And indeed, the going was easier on the game trail – once on track it was easier to follow its course as it bisected the hills which now rose straight above her.

A small stream burbled somewhere off to her right, winding its own path down to the Aoyumi. She concentrated on the sound of the stream and the pattering of raindrops and watched the ground a few feet in front of her, unwavering, making sure her next footfall was a good one. The hills were behind her and the game trail meandered through forest now, a mix of sparse pines and birches. In daylight, perhaps, the Aoyumi would have been visible in the distance. On a clear night, perhaps even the campfires and lanterns of a distant campsite.

_Curse this damn rain_!

Balsa's body was one single mass of pain, now. Her legs complained bitterly with every stride, her feet with every impact. Even her good side was cramping, and her lower back sore from the continual impact of her spear as it banged against it again and again. Her mind was a gray blur to match the sky, unable to process the signals of exhaustion and agony it was receiving. There was only one step, then the next, and the slow journey of the moon behind its mask of cloud.

When the Spearwielder heard the roar, she thought perhaps it was the wind picking up – or a product of her fevered imagination. It could hardly be the river, not yet – she could not have covered such a distance already, she was sure. And yet, when she broke through the trees, there it was – wide and dark in the gloom of the night, a few hundred yards distant. Had she run so far, so fast – truly?

Or had far more time passed then she'd realized? Which was it?

As she sprinted down the bank, Balsa spared a look at the sky, guessed the moon's location from the pattern of splayed light it cast. Midnight? No – at least an hour away, yet. Maybe a bit more.

She had been fast - very fast. Fast enough?

The spearwielder reached the river and had no choice now but to stop for a moment, and the wall of pain hit her like a team of oxen, almost knocking her off her feet. She gritted her teeth, stifling a scream, and stumbled to her knees. She quickly immersed her head in the cool water, letting the shock of that distract her mind from the agony of her body.

Balsa lifted her head with a growl and pushed herself upright. She'd been right, the current was fairly gentle and there was sand under her feet, the river nowhere close to its high spring banks. If she'd been fresh and well-rested, it would have been a hard swim – but manageable.

She was not.

Pushing the thought out of her mind, she backed up two strides, ran forward and hurled her spear into the air, ahead and to her left. Listening for the impact as it disappeared from sight and hearing it after a few seconds, she took a running dive into the water and surfaced a few yards from the bank.

_Chagum, I found you in this river - do you remember? I held you for the first time in these waters._

The Spearwielder's legs actually troubled her less when she hit the water, relieved of the duty of carrying her weight. Her arms were less fatigued and at first, she was able to make decent headway against the current on their formidable strength. But her legs were of little use to her, and her arms soon grew weary and she felt the river pulling her downstream.

Changing strategy, Balsa decided to swim underwater for as long as her breath would sustain her. This was better – she was able to make steady progress using a smooth breaststroke with minimal kick from her tortured legs. But there was almost no visibility below the surface of the river, and it required all of her concentration to keep herself pointed directly at the far bank.

One rasping breath, than another dive and fifteen more seconds of agony. And progress. Again, and again.

And then, when she kicked, there was rock and sand. Two more frog kicks and she was stumbling through waist-deep water, and then she was on her back in sand feeling the drizzle gently tickle her face.

There was nothing for it now – Balsa lay flat and still for a few seconds, sucking air into her lungs desperately. Now her arms and shoulders were tormented almost as severely as her legs, and she couldn't seem to get enough air no matter what she did.

"Cramping." She rasped. The Spearwielder opened her mouth and let rainwater settle inside for a few more seconds, swallowing gratefully. Then, groaning from the effort, she surged to her feet, tottering like a drunk for several breaths as her exhausted legs adjusted to the hard ground.

Where was the spear? She looked around desperately.

_I'll fight them with my bare hands if I have to_. She growled inwardly, almost as quickly realizing the folly of the thought. How far had she been carried downstream? How long could she afford to waste time searching?

But there it was, protruding from a dead tree perhaps thirty yards upstream from where she stood. The sight gave Balsa a new jolt of energy, and she sprinted for the tree and retrieved the weapon.

And saw, not ten paces from where her spear had landed, a small wooden boat. It bobbed softly in the water, tied to a cluster of gnarled tree roots in a tiny inlet. A small fishing hut sat on the bluff above the river, quiet and dark.

Balsa gasped, then remembered herself. Time was all that mattered now. She turned away from the river and towards the trees.

She saw no game trail, if there was one on this side – but that was what it was. The northern road was close to the river, she knew. Less than a mile. She picked the thinnest stretch and trees she could see and plowed straight ahead, striving to keep the song of the river directly behind her.

After a few stumbles and perhaps five minutes of a hard jog, using the spear as a machete to clear branches from in front of her, the trees abruptly stopped and there was a completely clear space dead ahead. It stretched as far as she could see in either direction. The northern road.

Balsa staggered to a stop, panting. Where were they? Had she come too far, or not far enough?

She dropped to her knees. It was too dark to see much on the surface of the road – there were ruts of course, but she could not tell how old. Oxen were enormous beasts and left deep impressions, and in better light Balsa was sure she'd have been able to tell if there were any recent ones on the road. But there was not enough moonlight. She cursed.

A waft of breeze passed over her, off the river, and on it Balsa could detect a familiar smell. She crawled a few paces, the odor becoming clearer and soon found herself staring down at an enormous pile of dung, flies buzzing about busily. Very fresh dung. She heard a strange sound, then realized it was her own hoarse laughter. She crawled to the side of the road and implanted one of her shuriken in the dirt.

Balsa pushed herself upright with her spear and, not even bothering to tuck it away, took off to the north at a full sprint.

There was no thought to it now, no strategy – the road was only a gentle uphill grade, nearly straight, its surface relatively smooth and even. Now it was just a question of extracting as much speed from her exhausted body as she could.

Balsa had heard tales of will-o-the-wisps and swamp spirits since she was a little girl, and at first, was half convinced that the yellow lights she saw through her red haze of pain were such apparitions. The Spearwielder wasn't sure how long she'd been on the road – it could have been ten minutes or three times that – but knew her exhaustion was such that she couldn't trust her senses implicitly.

_But will-o-the-wisps are supposed to dance, aren't they? To lure you to your doom. These aren't moving_.

Once she was certain they were indeed lanterns in the distance, a great lightness came over Balsa's body and her senses were instantly yanked back to complete clarity. It was battle, now – the stakes higher than any she'd faced before. The red patina of pain fell away from her eyes as if a veil lifted, and the world around her came into sharp and clear focus, even in the stubborn drizzle.

She approached to what she guessed was fifty yards distance from the lanterns and slipped into the trees, forcing herself to slow down despite the urgency she felt. Her best chance was surprise – Balsa fully expected to be outnumbered, perhaps grossly so. She crept between the trunks as quickly as she dared, the damp coat of leaves and pine straw cushioning her footfalls. Between that and the noise of the falling rain, she felt confident she could get very close without being detected.

She could hear no voices – no one screaming, either in pain or terror. There was no movement to be seen through the trees. Had she arrived too early – in which case her job would be a simple abduction – or too late? Was the job done, with no wounded left behind to cry out?

Three or four lanterns threw small yellow circles of light in the dank, and Balsa could make out the outline of a pair of tents in a small clearing on the far side of the road. There was a movement at the edge of the lantern light and she froze, perfectly still, and checked her breathing. A glint of steel – a sword? No, armor. The colors of the royal guardsmen. He seemed in no hurry.

_He's in one of those tents. He's right there._

Then, voices – faint, very faint. On the wrong side of the road – her side. Perhaps twenty paces to her right. The Spearwielder crept closer, choosing every step with precision. Two voices, three. Maybe more.

"Leave them alive." A whisper, startlingly close. She froze. "Do not forget – those are our orders. They must report back as witnesses."

"Aye, Sir."

"Take the guardsmen out first. Kill them if you must, but incapacitate if possible. The attendants will offer little resistance, but they may try and protect him after the guardsmen are down. Don't be careless."

"Aye." A few more voices. By their breathing, Balsa guessed six or eight, total. As she'd expected. She considered making a dash for the tents. She'd have to take out the guardsmen herself, though – and that could be messy, especially if there were a lot of them. She'd still be fighting her way into the tents when the assassins would be upon her.

Then all hell broke loose, and there was no time to do anything but react.

On some unseen signal there was a patter of footfalls, and they were on the road, headed for the tents. At least seven, probably eight of them. Shouts of alarm came from the far side of the road. In less than a blink Balsa's hand flashed forward and her shuriken flew through the air. There were grunts and squeals of pain and she was flying towards the sounds. _How many? How many did I hit_?

There were three of them, down in the road, all clutching at the backs of the legs between the hamstring and knee. Cursing that it wasn't more, her spear was a spinning blur of motion in her hand – she struck the nearest man below the chin and clipped the second behind the ear with the backswing. The third had time to shout a warning and lift his sword before the shaft cracked into the top of his head and he joined the other two in unconsciousness. She pressed on not pausing to check on their condition, briefly noting the strangeness of their uniforms. She'd been expecting the simple gray or blue camouflage gear of the Hunters, but the downed men wore a uniform of gold and black, their faces covered apart from their eyes.

_Rota_. She thought idly. _They're from Rota. Why_?

Her presence had been revealed by the shout of the third man, and two of the others peeled off to face her, the others engaging the two royals guardsmen. _Only two guards? A well-planned betrayal_. Shouts came from inside the tents, and one of the guardsmen shouted to stay put. _Bad advice!_

She had little time to waste on the two in front of her – there were three more, she could now see. But even if these men were from Rota, they were skilled – too skilled. A volley of darts flew towards her and she swept them away with a swirl of her spear. With a scream of rage she took two strides towards the man on the right, who drew his blade to parry. Seamlessly she spun a complete circle on her left foot, her spear an extension of her arm, the momentum created allowing her to sweep the weapon under the guard of the surprised enemy to the left. She brought it in low and heard it crack into his knee, followed by a piercing scream as he fell.

The Spearwielder spun around the axis of her weapon and landed squarely facing the other assassin, who attempted to run her through before she could set herself. He was good – extraordinary, in fact – his blade was fast and true and she only barely avoided a heart blow by falling backwards. As it was the blade clipped her left shoulder and there was a white spurt of pain as her right foot flew upward and impacted with full force between the assassins legs, and he crumpled to his knees. She brought the blunt end of the spear down on the back of his neck and kicked the other wounded man in the side of the head, and both slumped to the ground and were still.

Balsa turned to quickly assess the situation at the tents. Both guardsmen were down – either dead or unconscious – and some or all of the remaining assassins were tearing through the first tent and grappling with someone inside. It was no good – she knew these men, had known all along and only been momentarily fooled. These were the Hunters, and their skill levels were too good – she could never finish the remaining three in time, not even if her reactions hadn't been slowed by her arduous journey and the wound at her left shoulder had not been a font of bright red blood. If they were quick about it, they could easily dispatch Chagum before she could even get to him.

There was a movement out of the corner of her eye, and she saw a small figure darting away from the tents, into the darkness. _Too smart to stay put - good boy!_ One of the assassins had seen too, and leapt after him. She took a step in pursuit but another Hunter emerged from the ruins of first tent and blocked her way. Her eye drifted towards the others and the Hunter in her path moved to strike, his blade singing as it came. She parried it – barely – with her spear and rolled to her right, trying desperately to get closer to the person she prayed was Chagum without getting herself killed.

Balsa darted her hand into her tunic and flicked the last of her shuriken at her opponent's right eye. Gasping he raised his forearm with astonishing speed, taking the blow on the meat of the arm with a grunt. But Balsa followed the dart towards him head first and braced herself as her forehead smashed into his nose, breaking it and leaving him momentarily stunned.

Where were they? She heard a swoosh of a blade being drawn to her left, between the second tent and the trees behind it. At the edge of the lantern light a much larger figure stood over a kneeling smaller one dressed in a red and gold sleeping robe, slowly backing away and panting heavily. It was Chagum – she was certain of it. The man raised the blade and she wanted to shout Chagum's name but her throat was paralyzed.

The blade did not come down. It stayed, poised, above Chagum's head. There was a glint of steel in Chagum's hand and she saw the assassin step back, gasping, and Chagum was on his feet. The man seemed frozen by indecision and Chagum's hand darted out again, at his midsection, and the assassin fell backwards into the trees.

Balsa took one stride towards the boy and there was a flash of gold and black to his right. A sword blade flashed and Chagum, at the last moment, somersaulted out of the way as the blade passed over his head. Then he was on his feet, growling and brandishing a small steel dagger whose jeweled handle shone in the lantern light.

The spearwielder gasped in pain as a shuriken buried itself in her thigh. She spun to see the Hunter whose nose she had broken unsteadily raising his arm to throw again, blood gushing from his nose in a veritable fountain. The man was barely conscious and his aim reflected it – the first dart had missed her vital spots even with full surprise behind it. Balsa rolled to her feet as the Hunter's next throw missed and relieved him of consciousness with a boot to his right ear.

Ripping the shuriken from her flesh she turned immediately and saw Chagum thrust his dagger at his assassins side, saw it miss. He was momentarily off balance and the hilt of the Hunter's sword came down on the back of his head with a sickening crack, knocking him to the ground. In two strides she was on the man, screaming, and her spear carved a furrow in his left side. Her elbow came down on the back of his neck and he fell forward with a grunt.

An eerie silence fell on the scene as Balsa panted in pain and exhaustion. The Hunter at her feet bled from a knife wound in his forearm, courtesy of Chagum. Gasping, she fell to her knees next to the boy, half-fearful that it would be some decoy, some trick. The boy was on his side and she gently rolled him onto his back, holding her breath and listening for his.

It was Chagum.


	9. Kotora

It was Chagum.

He was alive.

"Chagum!" The words were a strangled whisper. She lowered her head to his chest, disbelieving the grace by which he still breathed, but he did – smoothly and evenly. She examined the back of his head – a bump, off to the side, a little blood. He moaned softly and she opened his eye, checking his pupil, then the other. They dilated, reacted to the lantern light. She gasped in relief.

The Spearwielder wanted to hug the boy to her, hold him tight and never let go, but it was not the time. They had to go.

Staggering to her feet, Balsa surveyed the scene around her. There was no movement anywhere in the camp, bar the shuffling of the nervous oxen. She staggered over to the tents, peeked inside. Two attendants and two pages in the first tent – all unconscious, all breathing. The assassins were good at their jobs. She spared a glance at the royal guardsmen, also still, one of them bleeding from his gut. She pondered assisting, decided against it – if they lived or died, she didn't have the time to do anything more for them than hope.

The Hunters lay scattered, all wearing the uniform of Rota. Balsa scowled – there would be time to consider that later, but she didn't like the smell of it. She knelt by the one whose nose she had broken and ripped away the cowl that covered his face, just to be certain.

It was Mon. There was no doubt.

She left the Hunter there and limped back to Chagum, who was stirring and moaning softly. Now, finally, the Spearwielder considered her own wounds. The thigh was trivial – the shuriken had caught her just below the buttock and missed the sciatic nerve. Grunting, she ripped a strip of cloth from her tunic and wrapped it tightly around the wound.

The shoulder was a little worse – there was quite a bit of blood – but the sword had missed the big muscles and glanced off the shoulder blade without breaking it. There would be a risk of infection, of course, but that was Tanda's job. She wrapped the wound with another strip of her tunic, wincing from the pain.

"Spearwielder."

Balsa spun, looking for the source of the weak voice. "Spearwielder." It came from one of the Hunters lying at the edge of the trees. She limped over to the man, who lay on his back, hand covering a wound in his stomach. A knife wound – Chagum's dagger.

"Finish me, Spearwielder. Finish me this time."

Balsa knelt and ripped the man's cowl away. "Jin." She tossed the cowl away. "I don't have time for you."

"I no longer wish to live, Spearwielder. Will you not do what you should have done before?"

"I will not kill you, Jin. I've got better things to do with my time."

"Please!" the young man grunted. "I can no longer live with what I've done."

"That's no concern of mine. We have to go."

"Spearwielder! The prince, does he-"

"He lives."

"Prince Chagum…"

Balsa scowled in disgust and knelt next to the man. "You could have killed him. You had your chance – he couldn't have stopped you, even with his blade. You didn't strike."

"I could not." Jin whispered.

"Then do this for him. That wound will not kill you. Instead of wishing to die, bind it and those of your comrades, and return to your Mikado and tell him that Chagum is dead. Tell him that you saw him die, saw his body washed away in the river or lost in a ravine. He may not believe, but it may at least buy me a little time to get Chagum to safety." She rose. "I have to get him away from here before your colleagues come around or things will be very complicated."

"Bodyguard… Protect him."

"Until I die." Scowling again, she retrieved her water skin and poured a few sips down the man's throat.

Balsa walked back across to Chagum, desperately fighting off the exhaustion and dizziness that threatened to overcome her. She took a quick sip of water, then gently tipped the boy's head back and moistened his mouth. He did not wake, but swallowed the water. _Good_.

She tied the spear to her back, horizontally, as tight as she could tolerate. She spied Chagum's dagger, wiped it on the grass and tucked it into her belt. Then, carefully lifting Chagum into a sitting position she guided his hands around her neck and rolled him onto her back, the shaft of the spear supporting his bottom. She lurched unsteadily to her feet.

The Spearwielder gasped at the weight of him – it felt as if he had stones hidden in the pockets of his robe. She was tired, wounded – but it was not the easy thing she'd reflexively expected. The boy had grown a bit taller than she remembered, not much, but his weight belied his physical appearance. _It's muscle_. She realized. _He's solid as a rock_.

Without another glance at the carnage around her she limped to the road and turned back the way she had come. It was after midnight now, for certain – perhaps two hours after. The clouds were beginning to thin out and the rain had abated, the moon now more clearly visible almost directly overhead. By Balsa's estimate she had four or five hours of darkness left.

She could manage no more than a rapid walk, even with the elation of the moment buoying her. Balsa knew that her body was at the limits of its tolerance, that will and emotion could only carry it so far. Chagum's weight felt more intolerable with every step. But she had him back – the strangeness and wonderfulness of it, to have him back! How could she falter now, after having seen the impossible happen?

"Balsa?" a sleepy voice moaned behind her.

"I'm here."

"Is it really you, Balsa? Am I dreaming?"

"You're not dreaming, Chagum." The Spearwielder whispered, fighting down a rising flood of emotion that would have overwhelmed her fading reserves of energy. It Was Chagum's voice – a bit huskier than before, perhaps, with a prospect of what it would become layered in its timbre – but Chagum's voice nonetheless. "We're fine."

"Balsa, you're bleeding!"

"I'm fine, Chagum, it's a scratch. Just be still."

"Balsa, I can walk. Put me down."

"You're injured. Don't worry – I'm not even tired."

"Balsa – please! You're hurt and you're staggering. Put me down!" The boy began to struggle weakly and she stumbled to a stop, lowering him to the ground. He stayed on his knees, wide-eyed, staring at her in disbelief. "Balsa!"

The moon shone brightly now, unencumbered by cloud. Balsa could see more detail in the face before her than before. "My brave prince. How are you feeling?"

"My head hurts." He winced, feeling the lump. "But I'll be fine."

"Listen to me, Chagum. We need to keep moving – we can't be caught on this road. Can you walk?" He nodded. "Take my hand, then – we need to move as fast as we can. Don't talk and save your strength, all right?'

His hand reached out and touched her cheek softly. "Balsa – you look terrible!"

The Spearwielder rasped an exhausted chuckle. "I've had a busy night. Come on. Tell me if I'm going too fast, okay?"

"All right."

Balsa forced her agonized body into motion again, the boy's hand wrapped tightly in hers. It was much easier to move without his weight on her back but she held herself in check, not wanting to push him too hard.

"Balsa – I can go faster." Chagum said after a moment.

"Why don't you go as fast as you can, then – and I'll match your pace, all right?" He nodded, smiled. After ten more minutes walk, she saw a glint in the moonlight on the left side of the road. "Stop here."

"Balsa?"

She knelt and picked up her shuriken, tucked it into her tunic. "We need to go through the trees now. Down to the river. It might get a little rough-"

"I'm fine, Balsa. Show me which way to go." She smiled and nodded, then led the boy through the trees and down towards the river. He followed, uncomplaining, as she picked her way back through the route she'd followed earlier, sticking as closely as possible to the path she'd cut with her spear.

The boat was where she'd left it, still bobbing softly in a river that now reflected the moonlight brilliantly. Balsa cast a nervous glance at the little fishing shack but if it was occupied, there was no sign of it. She untied the boat and lifted Chagum inside. "Have you rowed before, Chagum?"

"Yes – at the palace. I know how."

"Good." Balsa sat across from him, facing backwards, and pushed away from the bank. She pulled the oars, grunting in agony as her wounded shoulder sent waves of fire though her entire body, and a sheen of sweat formed on her forehead. Chagum wordlessly slid across and sat next to her. The boy took the left oar in both hands, staring at her expectantly. They began rowing together, making steady progress towards the far bank, losing a little ground to the current but not much. In less than two minutes they were across.

Balsa and Chagum wordlessly dragged the boat onto the bank and back into the trees, both of them panting with exhaustion by the time they were done. Chagum grabbed her hand and stared at her expectantly. "What now?"

"We need to get to Yashiro Village. See those two hills there? We just need to follow an animal trail between those and it will take us to the main trail, on the other side. From there, it's close by."

"Balsa, are you all right?"

"I'm tired. I've lost a little blood, too – but I'll be fine, I promise. We need to go a little further."

"I can see the trail." Chagum squinted. "Between the hills. Can you see it?"

"No – but I found it before. You lead the way and I'll follow."

He did, and she did. But the going became rougher and rougher, and her strength more and more fleeting. She'd had no food for better than twelve hours and unimaginable physical exertion for much of it. Her wounds throbbed and her head began to feel light. After not more than five minutes of following Chagum she found herself stumbling and leaning against his surprisingly solid frame. "Balsa!"

"I'm all right, Chagum."

"You need to rest. I'll help you, okay?"

"I think… I think I'm going to need to sleep for a couple of hours. I don't think I can…go much farther."

"Hang on!" he panted. Balsa felt herself drifting away from her body, forcing herself to concentrate on sheer absurd realaity of Chagum's presence at her side. She was leaning more and more of her weight on him, and his breathing grew more and more labored. "Here!"

"What?"

"It's a nice little dry spot. Almost like a cave." He led her by the hand to a small depression in the round hill on their left, an overhanging lip of rock that had kept the ground beneath it fairly dry. "It's OK, Balsa. We can rest."

The Spearwielder slumped to the ground with her back against the hillside, panting. Chagum slid next to her. "I'm pretty tired."

Chagum still held her hand, his eyes wide. "Will you be okay?"

She forced a smile. "I need to sleep. Two hours should be enough. I just need to sleep for a bit… Then we can get to the village."

"Sleep – I'll stay up and wake you in two hours."

"No – you need sleep, too." Though her voice was weak, Balsa squeezed the boy's hand reassuringly, feeling a fraction better at finally being able to rest. "My wounds aren't serious. I can wake myself whenever I need to. It's a skill you have to have in my profession."

"Will… Will we be OK here?"

"We should be. They don't know where we went, for starters. And there's no bridge for miles and miles. None of those guys are going to be in any condition to swim for a while." She grinned and patted his cheek. "You took two of them out yourself."

"Balsa!" Chagum blushed. "I thought I was going to die."

"If you hadn't gotten out of that tent when you did and hadn't defended yourself as fiercely as you did, you _would _have died. I wouldn't have been able to save you."

"You… saved me." Chagum whispered, wide-eyed.

"You growled like a little tiger – and bit like one, too."

"Balsa, that man I stabbed-"

"He'll be all right." Balsa rasped. "I checked on him – he's not critically wounded. Neither are your pages."

"Honest?"

"I swear it." Balsa took out the water skin and drained a long sip before handing it to the boy. "Here – finish that up."

He did, looking worried. "Balsa, those other men – did you kill them?"

"No one died today. Not by my hand, anyway." She smiled weakly. "They've all had much better days, I promise you that. But no one died by my spear."

"Thank goodness!' Chagum breathed. "Who were those men, Balsa? Why were they-"

"Shhh. We'll think about all that later. Now we need to sleep for a bit." The Spearwielder lifted her good arm and pulled Chagum close to her. "My _Kotora_… Rest your head on my shoulder, all right? It won't be very comfortable but it's better than rock."

"What about you?"

"I won't have any trouble sleeping, Chagum – I promise." Balsa adjusted the boy's weight against her side, then rested her cheek on top of his head. At the end of it all, with her exhaustion and her wounds sapping every last ounce of strength from her body, she still had the ability to marvel that it was really Chagum, against all possibility. It was almost beyond imagining, but he was real.

She felt the tension is his body slowly soften, the weight of him against her grow as his muscles relaxed and let her support him. "Balsa, it's really you."

"It's me."

"I…I thought you forgot about me."

"I never forgot about you Chagum. Not for a single minute."

His voice was a distant whisper, losing itself in slumber. "I didn't think I'd ever see you again…" She found a last reserve of strength in her good arm to pull him a little closer to her, then lost herself in dreamless sleep.

****************************************************************************

"Chagum."

That was strange, hearing that word not proceeded by "Prince". No one called him that anymore. Not since…

"Chagum."

His eyes snapped open, a flood of recollection sweeping over him, and Crown Prince Chagum saw the spearwielder's blood-stained, exhausted face staring at him. It was as clear as it had been in his imagination countless times before. Eyes gaping, his hand drifted to her face unbidden, felt its rough solidity. "Balsa!"

"How do you feel?"

The boy winced, realizing at the question that he had a stout headache. "My head hurts a little." He felt Balsa's calloused hands part his hair and assess his bruised scalp with supreme gentleness.

"I don't think this is serious, but we'll have Tanda take a look at it just to be safe."

"Tanda!"

"He should be waiting for us at the village. Can you walk?"

"Of course." The boy pushed himself upright and squinted in the morning sun, panic rising in him at the brightness of the sky. "How long was I asleep?"

"Only about three hours – it's still early. But we need to move."

Chagum felt as if he were in a dream, much more than the receding veil of sleep at the root of it. The events of the night before, Balsa here, now – it was as unreal as any dream could be. His hand was at her elbow, again needing to feel that she was not an apparition. "Balsa, I can't believe it's actually you. You're here!"

"I hope so."

"_Why_, Balsa? How? How did you know what was going to happen? Why did you save me?"

"You're full of questions." The Spearwielder smiled. "I promised I'd protect you didn't I, Chagum? It's obvious my job isn't over, since you keep getting yourself into trouble."

"But – _how_, Balsa?"

"We need to go – there'll be plenty of time to talk later. I'm not going to be at my best, so it might be slow going. All right?"

"Okay." Chagum sighed. "But Balsa-"

"Shhh." The Spearwielder knelt so that they were at eye level, hands on his shoulders. "What I think is this. There's something watching over you – looking out for you. I think someone sees all the burdens you've had to carry and the way you've carried them, and wants to make sure you're all right. That's what I think."

Chagum's heart rose into his throat. "That's _you_, Balsa."

Her eyebrows rose and she stared at him for a breath, another. She inclined her brow towards him slowly until their foreheads toughed lightly for a moment, then stood. "Let's move, now."

And then they were walking, through thick brush which slowly gave way to tall grasses and wild plants which swayed softly in the autumn breeze. The sky was a mix of puffy clouds and azure clarity, the air brisk and clean. Chagum picked his way through the high stalks and brush easily, the thoughts of the animals that had blazed the almost invisible trails as clear to him as if he'd made them himself. He could almost see the hooves and pads beating the paths over the centuries and millennia, and feel the primal needs that drove them to water, and shelter, and prey.

Balsa's hand was in his at first as he led her, the calloused skin of her palm rough against his own. Then her arm was around his shoulder and he relished the closeness of her, the safety of her warm presence close to him. As they broke through the tallest of the grasses and the main trail came into view ahead of them she leaned more and more weight against him, and her gait become more and more irregular until he found himself breathing hard and perspiring from the strain of supporting her. "Balsa, you need to rest!"

"Just for a second." She mumbled. The paused at the edge of the trail and she fell to her knees with a grunt. "I'm fine."

"You're not fine." The boy sighed, sliding to the ground next to her. "Do your wounds hurt?"

"Just tired." She sighed. They sat back to back and Chagum could feel her breathing slowly, evenly.

"I could try and carry you."

"Mm?"

"You know - on my back. I might not be able to, but-"

A weary chuckle. "I don't think you're quite ready for that, Chagum. I'm heavier than you think."

"But-"

"Hush. Let me be still for a few minutes and we can go."

"If you say so." The boy replied dubiously. Balsa said nothing for a little while, and he began to wonder if he was asleep. What if she was – should he wake her? She was so tired, but… Then his head snapped up and he closed his eyes in concentration. "Balsa!" he whispered. She did not reply immediately. He twisted himself around, supporting her weight against his shoulder. "Balsa!"

Her eyes fluttered open. "Balsa, I hear something!"

Instantly, she came to a coiled position on one knee. "What?" she hissed. Then she heard it too – footsteps crunching on the trail, somewhere up the hillside. She sprang quickly to her feet but Chagum saw her involuntarily grimace as she did. Indicating the cover of the tall grasses they'd just left, she crept quickly towards it and Chagum followed.

They lay down flat, breathing quietly, and the footfalls grew closer. Chagum glanced at Balsa's face and saw her dark eyes focused on the trail with furious intensity, one hand on her spear. Then her mouth opened in surprise and she pushed herself to her knees. "Tanda!"

The healer turned, startled, then his face brightened. Chagum stood up and helped Balsa to her feet and Tanda's jaw dropped in shock. "Balsa!" he dashed towards them, eyes darting between he and Balsa. He stood in front of Chagum – still dressed in his imperial sleeping robe - slack-jawed, and awkwardly began to kneel. "Prince-"

"No!" the boy shouted. "Please don't do that, Tanda!"

"Sorry." Tanda mumbled sheepishly. "I wasn't… Are you all right? Are you hurt?"

"No – I'm fine. But Balsa's not well! She has two wounds and she can barely walk."

"Don't be dramatic." Balsa scowled. "It's just exhaustion and hunger. Chagum's been injured – struck in the head. Check him first."

"Balsa!"

"Let me see. Where were you hit?"

"Here." Balsa pointed and Chagum could feel Tanda's expert hands palpating the knob on his skull.

"Hmmm." Tanda was in front of him, his kind face staring into Chagum's own. "I want you to follow my finger with your eyes, all right? Nice and easy." He nodded, and the healer dragged his finger back forth, up and down, intently watching the boy's eyes. "Good. Do you know what happened to you?"

"Of course! I was fighting with a soldier and I went for him with my dagger- My dagger!"

"I have it, don't worry." Balsa said gruffly, patting her belt.

"Go on." Tanda prompted. "How much do you remember?"

"I… I was trying to avoid his sword and he was trying to… To kill me, I guess. And I stabbed at him but I missed and then…" the boy shrugged. "That was it until I woke up on Balsa's back."

"How much later was that?"

"Not more than twenty minutes I'd guess – but I was pretty out of it." Balsa answered.

"Good." The healer smiled reassuringly and shrugged his pack to the ground. "Judging by the lump and the way you've reacted, I don't think it's anything more serious than a couple days of headaches. You're lucky."

"Thank goodness." Balsa breathed, her arm around him. Then Tanda's hands were in his hair again, and he felt a damp cloth being wiped across the wound in his scalp. All at once the boy had to bite down on a surge of emotion, overcome by the ease and familiarity with which they touched him, unconcerned for protocol or ceremony. A quick sob escaped his chest.

"I'm sorry – did that hurt? This is to help stop an infection. I'll be more gentle."

"No! I'm fine." Chagum wiped the sleeve of his robe across his eyes quickly. "See to Balsa already, damn it! She's… She-"

"All right, all right – don't worry now." Tanda smiled reassuringly and patted his shoulder, then turned to Balsa. "As for you – what is it? Where are you hurt _this_ time?"

"This is the only one I'm feeling." She shrugged her tunic off her shoulder.

The healer untied the makeshift bandage. "Ugh. Sword?"

"Just grazed me. Ow!"

"Stay still." Tanda hovered over the wound, hands working expertly, then reached for his pack. "You must have been born under a lucky star, Balsa. It's mostly just skin and surface muscle. Three inches lower-"

"Three inches higher and it would have missed me altogether." Balsa winked conspiratorially at Chagum over the healer's shoulder. Tanda worked on the wound for several moments, then applied a fresh bandage. "What else?"

"Here." The Spearwielder pointed at her thigh. "But it's nothing – a scratch."

"Hmmm. Caught you at a sensitive spot, did it?" He began to peel down Balsa's trousers and Chagum turned away quickly. He stared at the trees on the distant hillside as Tanda and Balsa bickered amicably while he tended the wound.

There was a clap on his shoulder. "Done." Chagum turned back and Tanda was busy wiping his hands, then repacking his gear as Balsa pushed herself to her feet. He handed each of them a _yamabime_ fruit from his bag. "Get some sugar in your systems, both of you. Can you both walk?"

"Of course." The Spearwielder spat.

"Put your arm around me." Chagum ordered.

"What's that?"

He slid next to her. "Lean on me – you're hurt and you're tired. Tanda can help, too."

"That's not-"

"Just do as he says." Tanda took up a position on her other side. "You're going to disregard orders from the Crown Prince?"

"Hey!"

"Fine, you two." She sighed. They set off, each supporting the Spearwielder with an arm around their shoulder. "How much farther is it?"

"Two hours walk at most."

"What're you doing here, anyway? Didn't I tell you to wait at the village?"

"Good thing I didn't, isn't it?' the healer scowled. "I waited as long as I could, Balsa – I figured if you were hurt it'd be better try and get to you that much faster."

"You could've missed us on the way."

"But I didn't, did I?" the healer sighed. "She's a terrible patient."

"Take the shortest route you can."

"What?"

"Balsa – are you sure?" Chagum whispered.

"I just want to get off the damn trail and to a bed as fast as possible!" she worked her arms free of them and walked ahead.

******

Yashiro Village was pretty much just as Chagum remembered Toumi Village, deeper in the mountains - though it seemed like two lifetimes rather than two years since he'd been there. It felt like that boy had been a completely different person than who he was now – a person who had seen and felt so much and been changed by all of it, in deep and permanent ways.

And yet, that time felt more real than the months and years he'd spent cloistered in the Imperial Palaces, living a strange and fantastical and cold existence as the Crown Prince. It was impossible to reconcile the two existences – the child who worked and fought and was touched by those close to him with the sheltered and pampered symbol who seemed to live at a remote distance from all who surrounded him.

And yet, oddly, Chagum felt like it was always _him_, no matter which life he was living.

The bones of the nahji decorated its entrance of this village just as they had the other, though he didn't have to leap quite so high to rattle them this time. Like Toumi, Yashiro was surrounded by small plots of farmland, crops that the boy didn't recognize. The fields looked more unkempt than he remembered, though – almost overgrown. There were few villagers to be seen until they reached the cluster of huts that formed the village center.

Someone had clearly been alerted to their arrival, because the village elder, a distinguished man who looked very, very old to Chagum, was already coming to meet them when they arrived, half-supporting Balsa between them. "Tanda – you have indeed found your friends, I see."

"Yes, Nanda-sama. Balsa's hurt, as well. May we bring her into your hut to rest?"

The old man stared at Chagum, wide-eyed, then nodded. "Of course. It is as you asked – a fish broth has been prepared and there is fresh bedding. Come."

Chagum started back at the curious faces looking in his direction, acutely embarrassed and ill-at-ease. The boy was surprised to see so few people about. "We'll need to get you some new clothes." Tanda whispered to him.

"Come, come." The old man led them into the largest hut, where his wife waited, bowing deeply. Straw bedding and blankets had been set up in the main room and a cauldron bubbled on the brazier. All at once, Chagum realized he was starving. "Sit and eat. Is the boy injured as well?"

"Not seriously. He's just tired." Tanda helped Balsa to kneel at the low table and prepared a bowl. "Balsa – eat. You need to build your strength up before you sleep. You lost a lot of blood."

"I'm grateful for your hospitality, Nanda-sama." The Spearwielder rasped.

"You are always welcome in our village, Balsa-dono." The old man bowed. "You are held in much esteem here."

Balsa tucked into her bowl hungrily and Chagum stared, stomach growling. Tanda watched Balsa eat for a few moments, rapt, then snapped his gaze over at a particularly audible lurch from the boy's gut. "Chagum – sorry! You must be starving. Here – you didn't have to wait."

"Thank you." He accepted to bowl of broth, thick with potatoes and fish heads, and bowed to the elder. "Thank you for your hospitality, Nanda-sama."

The old Yakue smiled merrily. "You are most welcome, courteous Yogo Boy. Tanda and Balsa are well-known here and we are happy to extend our meager hospitality to their friends. Now – eat."

Chagum nodded and tore into the bowl greedily. Amazingly, just as he remembered, the food tasted so much better than any of the aesthetically pleasing feasts at the palace. He heard Tanda laugh and saw the healer smiling in his direction. "Feels good to eat when you're hungry, doesn't it?"

Chagum licked his lips. "Sometimes I don't eat for a day at the… At home. Just to feel hunger. It drove my… It drove them crazy."

The elder eyed him curiously. "I will leave you to your repast, and your rest. My home is yours. If you have a need, Tanda, you will tell me?"

"Of course." The old man bowed, and he and his wife departed the hut. Chagum and Balsa slurped their bowls down greedily.

Chagum, finished with the chunks, raised the bowl to his mouth and licked it clean. "_Oishi_." He smiled at Tanda. "Do they know who… who I am?"

"I told them only that a Yogo boy would be visiting – that's all. They're smart people – Nanda-sama not the least. They would welcome you as a guest under any circumstances, don't worry."

"Sleep." Balsa groaned, her bowl clattering to the hard dirt floor. "Tanda, have the villagers keep a watch, will you? Watch as much of the south and west as they can. I need time – I'm sorry."

"Of course." Tanda was smoothly at her side and helped her to one of the straw beds. "When do you want me to wake you?"

"Not through the rest of the day and the night. Fourteen hours at least." The spearwielder mumbled. "I'll wake in the morning."

"Aye, then. Sleep." Balsa drifted off gratefully almost at once, eyes closing and her chest rising and falling in slow, rhythmic breaths. The healer came and sat next to Chagum. "You must be exhausted too, ne?"

"I'll be fine for a bit." Chagum sighed.

Tanda took a deep breath. "A few moments to relax, at least." He looked Chagum up and down, grinning, and put a hand on his head. "Well met, Chagum. I'm very happy you're safe."

"Tanda… Thank you." The boy squeezed the healer's arm gently.

"Chagum." Tanda ruffled his hair and shook his head. "I can hardly believe it. I really never thought I'd see you again."

"Me too."

"You're grown well. You're the young man I imagined you'd become. It's good to see you, Chagum."

"Tanda." The boy looked over at Balsa worriedly. "Is she going to be okay, do you think? I've never seen her like this."

The healer continued to ruffle the boy's hair affectionately. "Her wounds aren't too serious – I've treated a lot worse injuries on that one. Don't worry."

"But she's-"

"Chagum, listen to me. She ran all the way to find you – all the way from my hut to your camp. I doubt she stopped for a minute's rest on the way."

"What? But that's a day's walk, at least! How did she-"

"She's Balsa." The healer shrugged. "I've never known how she does the things she does. I don't know that there's another person who could have reached you in time. And I don't think she's ever pushed herself that hard before."

"Balsa!"

"Hush – let her sleep, now. All those miles, all those hours… All of her battles have taken something away from her, you know. All her injuries. I know just about every one – most of those wounds I treated myself. You don't endure all that and not lose something of yourself in the process."

"Balsa." Chagum whispered. "Please – stop."

"She's going to be fine, though – just needs rest. Like you do." Tanda patted the boy's head one last time and stood. "Chagum, you know, she'd never have done it for anyone else except you."

"What?"

The healer smiled warmly. "There's only ever been one person that could change her – and that's you, Chagum. You already have. Don't forget how special that is." He lifted the boy to his feet and pushed him gently towards the bedding next to Balsa's. "Now – you go to sleep. And don't wake up until you're completely rested. You've been through a lot and you've got a head injury – you need as much rest as your body can take."

"Tanda…" Chagum _was_ exhausted, he realized now that they were safely off the road and he had food in his belly. But his mind buzzed with a thousand questions.

"Sleep." Tanda gently pushed him down onto the straw mat and pulled the rough blanket to his chin. "Healer's orders. I'll get some Yakue clothes sorted out for you, to tide you over till we can find something suitable. And Balsa will be right here when you wake up." He held his finger to his lips and left Chagum and Balsa alone in the hut.

The boy felt sleep begin to take him almost as soon as his head touched the straw. He let it fall to his left and watched Balsa for a moment, looking peaceful now and deep in slumber. Her skin was pale in the firelight and there was a bit of blood in her hair, but her breathing was unlabored and easy and he face wore a contented expression. Feeling a smile come to his face, Chagum closed his eyes and let his exhaustion claim him.


	10. Yashiro Village

He awoke to the sound of birdsong and the sight of mottled sun streaming through the small windows of the hut. He lay still for several moments, waking only slowly, feeling as if he had been away from his body for a long time.

Chagum slowly pushed himself into a sitting position, yawning and stretching as he did. He felt the sluggishness of someone waking from a too-long sleep, but the ache in his head was barely noticeable and he could feel that the pains of their journey had largely been left behind. It was the most restful sleep the boy had enjoyed for many months.

Chagum looked over at Balsa and an unbidden smile came to his face, the great joy he felt in his heart to be near her manifesting itself. Her color was better now – some of the pallor had left her face and the darkness beneath her eyes had lessened. He stared at her for several moments before quietly extracting himself from his bedding.

A small pile of clothes, simple and smelling of the sun, sat next to his bed. It was _samue _in the style of the villagers and the Yogo peasantry – a tunic of steel blue with a sash of black, drab gray trousers. They looked worn, durable and – to Chagum's eager eyes - extremely comfortable. Chagum stood, took a quick glance behind him at Balsa and, seeing her eyes closed, gratefully slipped out of the heavy royal robe he'd worn the past three days and nights.

The boy had slid into the trousers – a bit large on him –and was reaching for the tunic when he heard Balsa's voice, thick with sleep, from behind him. "What are those marks?"

"Balsa!" he squeaked, glaring reproachfully over his shoulder. "No fair. I thought you were asleep!"

She was sitting up, a hard look on her face as she stared at his back. "What were those bruises, Chagum?"

"I thought they'd have faded by now." Chagum said softly. "It's been a couple of weeks."

"Since what? Tell me."

The boy sighed deeply and looked at his feet. "It's nothing, Balsa. My father has me beaten sometimes. When I displease him."

"_Displease _him?" Her voice was a low growl.

"Please Balsa – it's nothing to worry over. I'm used to it."

"He beats you till you bruise. This is the man who claims to be the hand of God on Earth."

"Balsa-"

"Chagum." Balsa's strong arms were around his neck, holding him to her, and the boy silently let her. "I cannot imagine the mind of a man who would be displeased to have a son like you."

Chagum breathed deep and shut his eyes tightly, calming his breathing. Balsa continued to hold him to her and he felt the even rhythm of her own breaths, focused on them to steady his emotions. "Are you… Are you feeling better?"

"I'm fine, Chagum. I've never felt stronger."

"Really?" he smiled over his shoulder. "You're better?"

"It takes more than a sword blow to strike me down. But I'm starving."

"Me too." The boy laughed.

"Finish getting dressed – and give me some privacy to do the same. I'm sure Nanda-san will have some broiled fish and rice for breakfast."

After breakfast – a simple but utterly satisfying meal of tiny broiled fish, rice and pickles – Chagum and Balsa walked out into the center of the little village, little more than a large circle of thatched huts surrounded by cultivated fields. The air was calm and cool under scudding high clouds and the maples of the surrounding forest were in a full symphony or brilliant color. Balsa looked fitter by far than when they'd arrived at the village, and appeared to walk with a minimal amount of pain. Chagum felt a rush of gratitude at the sight and took her hand in his own as they walked.

There were few Yakue in the village – Chagum was again surprised by how few – and those who were consisted mostly of the very young and the very old. They still looked upon him – with fair complexion and cool blue eyes – with unabashed curiosity, but the boy at least felt less conspicuous than he had in his awful red robe. "Balsa, should we tell them who I am?"

"Well, now – what do you think?"

The boy considered for a moment. "It could cause them trouble if we did, couldn't it? Maybe we shouldn't."

The Spearwielder nodded approvingly. "I think that's right."

"They must have figured out something's going on – especially the way I was dressed when we got here."

"Well –we couldn't very well have brought you into the village naked, could we?" Balsa smiled. "They're smart people – they know you're some sort of noble, I'm sure. But the elder approves of you, and hopefully no one here will recognize your face."

"Will we stay long?"

"We'll have to discuss what to do next – but no. I don't think we will."

The elder shuffled over to greet them, puffing on a small wooden pipe. "Well, now – you look like a proper young Yakue lad now, don't you Child? You look better, the both of you."

"Thanks to your hospitality, Nanda-sama." Balsa bowed low and Chagum followed suit. "Where is Tanda?"

"He's gone down to help with the _yamaimo _harvest. He'll be in the lower fields on the north terraces."

"I'll help!" Chagum interjected.

The elder puffed his pipe thoughtfully. "That would not be appropriate for a guest, young master. We would not ask you to work while you enjoy our hospitality."

"I want to. Balsa – will you show me?"

"What – you think I know how to do everything?" she laughed.

"You don't know how to harvest them?"

"Well, as it happens – I do. Would Nanda-sama permit an exception – for educational purposes?"

"If the boy wishes – I shall relent." He bowed. "We are grateful."

"Come on, then." Balsa sighed, leading the boy towards the north terraces. "I'd rather see you getting some rest, though."

"I'm rested." The boy grabbed her hand again, embarrassed but unable to suppress his desire to quantify Balsa's presence at every opportunity. The soft sounds of harvest songs could be heard in the air – very high voices all, women and young children. Chagum strained to hear Tanda's voice among them but could not pick it out.

They passed a small pile of bamboo poles of various lengths at the edge of the trail, and Chagum stopped, staring. "What is it?" Balsa asked.

"Balsa. Spar with me?"

She frowned. "What?"

"Spar with me." The boy whispered, urgently. "Please."

"Here? Why?"

Now that the idea was in his head, the boy wanted badly for it to happen. _Needed_ it to happen for reasons he could not understand. "Please, Balsa? Just for a few minutes?" He picked up one of the shorter lengths of bamboo and hefted it in his hands. "I know your shoulder's hurt but you don't need both arms to spar with me – just use your right. Please?"

"This is very silly." The Spearwielder scowled. "What's gotten into your head?" Seeing the pleading look in his eyes, she sighed and chose one of the bamboo poles. "What a strange boy you are, Chagum."

They squared their bodies to each other, Chagum with both hands on his bamboo as if he were holding a spear, Balsa wielding hers in her right as if a sword. Though she did not speak, Chagum could hear her voice – urging him to calm his breathing, to center his focus. He felt the suppleness in his arms, the spring in his legs. Then Balsa came at him, a backhand blow that his parried with his bamboo spear, and the hollow wood came together with a resounding crash.

.

In the field below, Tanda looked up from the sweet potatoes he'd been harvesting, squinting in the direction the noise had come from. His jaw dropped, and he rose to his feet and shielded his eyes in the morning sun.

.

The force of the impact drove Chagum back a step and he felt a numbness in his hands for an instant, but he held his ground. "Good balance. Good center." Balsa nodded approvingly.

He feinted at her belly, saw her tense, and swung around to his left, his spear sweeping towards Balsa's ankles. She leapt nimbly over the strike and thrust at his midsection in the same motion but he ducked to his left and blow glanced off his shoulder. "Good! Good, Chagum. You've been practicing." There was a note of surprise in her voice.

"They couldn't stop me." The boy smiled. "They couldn't stop me from training my body, even if I had to do it after they all thought I was asleep or I had to sneak out before breakfast in the morning. _You_ were there, Balsa."

"What?" a puzzled frown. She tried a double-strike, he blocked both. A _men_ attack to his head, he dodged.

A great sense of vitality flooded through the boy, an overwhelming sense of being utterly _alive_. He laughed at the sheer joy of it, then launched into a series of strikes – everything he knew how to do. It was clumsy, and she blocked everything, blow by blow, be his energy did not flag and she was too busy parrying the nonstop barrage of thrusts and sweeps to counter at all. "Chagum!"

He laughed again, couldn't stop. He laughed until he was breathless and the bamboo dropped from Balsa's grasp and clattered to the ground. "What is this? You can't just laugh when you're sparring! It's not respectful." The Spearwielder was scowling but as Chagum kept laughing, an involuntary chuckle escaped her lips, then another.

The his own spear was on the ground and he took two quick strides to Balsa and his arms were wrapped around her, tightly as he could, and he was still laughing. "What kind of attack is _this_? Have you lost your mind?"

"Balsa!" He was laughing and he couldn't stop only it was into her neck, now, instead of into the open air.

"You're strong! I can't breathe, Chagum. Chagum!"

Somehow - he didn't feel the exact moment when – the boy wasn't laughing anymore, and he could feel tears on his face and now instead of laughter he could hear the sound of sobbing in his ears. And it was coming out of him a flood then, and he couldn't stop it – it was as powerful as anything he'd ever felt and it was almost good in a way, the way it felt. But it was all too much to process – all of the anger and all of the grief – and it decided to come out, seized the opportunity and would not be denied.

So Chagum cried as hard as he could, a flood of his tears on Balsa's neck and dampening her tunic, and he tried to say her name but he couldn't form any words at all so he just kept crying as hard as he could. His whole body was shaking with the force of it, is until his chest ached and he struggled for breath. She said nothing loud enough for him to hear over his own racket, but he felt his feet leave the ground and she was holding him, supporting all of his weight, and he liked the way that felt.

The emotions racking his body lost none of their raw power, but his strength was finally starting to give out and Chagum felt the intensity of his crying begin to subside at last. He continued to hiccup and his eyes felt like they were on fire and his nose was completely stopped, forcing him to suck air in desperately through his mouth. But his tears stopped at last and the tremors calmed, and still she held him and said nothing, just rubbed the back of his neck softly and let him be, not rushing him.

"You… You can…put me down." He finally whispered, his throat as raw as if he'd swallowed a bowl of needles.

"There's no hurry."

"Balsa, I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry when there's nothing to be sorry for." She whispered into his ear. He sobbed again, once. "I've never seen you like this, Chagum."

"I couldn't help it. Sorry."

"You're going to need to be strong. You're going to need to be brave, too – can you do that for me?"

"Yes!" he rasped with as much force as he could muster, which wasn't a lot.

"I knew that. You always have before, so why not now?"

"I will. I promise, Balsa." She gently set him on his feet and he opened his eyes, squinted at her and was alarmed at the state of her tunic. "But later, OK? Not this second."

"That's fine." She chuckled. "What a mess you've made of yourself!"

"Sorry!"

"Do you still want to pick _yamaimo_?"

"Yes." He sighed, feebly wiping his eyes and wishing there'd been no one else in Yogo but he and Balsa for the past five minutes. "But not where Tanda is, OK? Not with me… like this."

"OK." She took his hand. "We'll find a nice quiet spot and I'll show you how to do it. We Kanbalese aren't known as great potato pickers, but I can hold my own." Chagum smiled weakly and allowed Balsa to lead him into the fields.

.

Tanda stared after them for a moment until they disappeared amongst the plants, eyed wide, then dropped to his knees among the _yamaimo_ plants again.

*************************************************************

By the time they were finished Chagum's hands were stained dark brown almost to the elbows from two hours spent digging the gnarled tubers from their subterranean nests, and the boy was drenched in sweat despite the cool the autumn weather. Still, on the walk back to the village he looked as happy to Balsa's eyes as she'd seen him since their days at the water mill.

"Don't let the locals see you smiling like that." She teased him. "No self-respecting farm boy would ever be pleased to have to pick yams all morning."

"I liked it." The boy smiled. "Its fun being covered with dirt." He took a long look around the terraced fields and his voice became more serious. "But I didn't see many boys out here harvesting – did you?"

"No, now that you mention it… I haven't seen any young men since we arrived at the village." The boy's face darkened considerably at her words and he fell silent.

Truth be told, the Spearwielder was more than a little concerned for Chagum's state of mind. He'd been through a shocking few days – and more shocks were coming, soon. By the sounds of things he'd had a rough time of it at the palace – as if his mother's death weren't enough. He was clearly elated to be with her again, but his moods seemed to be prone to sudden shifts – and the outburst she'd just witnessed was like nothing she'd seen from the even-tempered child before. _He's at that age. The changes start to do weird things to them… Hard enough to go through under normal circumstances._

Their path merged with the one from the north terraces, and Tanda arrived to join them for their journey back to the village with a large basket of _yamaino _on his back. "Ho, Balsa, Chagum. You look like you've been working hard – one of you anyway."

"_Someone_ had to supervise."

Chagum kicked at this dirt on the path, not looking up. "Tanda?"

"Hmmm?"

"Why are there no men in the village? I hardly even see any boys as old as me."

"Well then." The healer sighed. "That's not the best question to ask right now."

"It's because they all got drafted into the army, isn't it?"

"What?" Balsa gasped. "Is this true?"

"Balsa-"

"It's because of my father." Chagum said in a low voice. "Isn't it? His men came and took all the men and the older boys away to join his army."

"I suppose it was unlikely you wouldn't know." Tanda answered in a soft voice. "Yes – they came through a few weeks ago, Nanda-sama said. The villagers begged to have men to harvest the fields, given the time of year. But they were refused."

"What is this?" Balsa snarled. "They've never shown much interest in Yakue men for the army before – they didn't want to associate with them. Now all of a sudden they're all conscripted in the middle of the fall harvest?" She turned to Chagum. "You knew? That's why you wanted to help harvest the fields, isn't it!"

"I'm sorry."

"Balsa, leave him be."

"Tanda." Chagum said in a hoarse whisper. "I know it doesn't help, but I didn't want to see this happen. I told my father it was bad, that it would… That the villages wouldn't be able to live."

"Of course you did, Chagum. I never doubted it for a second – you know better than that."

"I tried to stop him – I spoke at council against it, but…"

"Chagum!" Balsa seized him by the shoulders. "Did this displease your father?" He looked at her sharply. "I'm sorry. I know you'd never support something stupid and cruel like that."

"That doesn't help these people though – does it? Or any of the other Yakue villages. So in the end I was really no good at all to anyone."

"I know you tried." Tanda patted his shoulder. "You're just a kid, you know – you can't take responsibility for everything that happens."

"I tried…"

"It _is_ weird, though. Why does the Mikado want all these extra soldiers all of a sudden?"

"That's a good question." Balsa frowned. "Especially when the Crown Prince is attacked right in the open on the northern road by assassins in the uniform of Rota."

"Rota?" Tanda frowned.

"Balsa?"

They'd arrived back in the circle of huts, where a small group of children and old men were consolidating meager bundles of _yamaino. _"Let's not discuss this now, you two." Balsa said. "We'll discuss it in the hut later – when we're deciding where we go from here."

Chagum went and added his basket of potatoes to the pile and bowed low to the others, who appeared to be amused as they returned the gesture. Then a girl of perhaps Chagum's age appeared from one of the huts and gaped at the boy. "You!"

Chagum stared back at the girl, speechless. "Nimka?" Tanda gasped, stunned at the sight of his young cousin from Toumi Village.

"Tanda-san!" The girl bowed low. "And Balsa-sama is here too." She looked at Chagum and blushed. "And His Highness. I'm glad to see you well." A small crowed of the villagers had clustered around the others.

"Damn." Balsa spat. "So much for that. Nimka – what are you doing here?" It didn't escape Balsa's notice that Chagum was blushing as well.

"A few of us came down from Toumi Village – to help with the harvest. We have more boys in our village and our harvest is earlier so high in the mountains. So I came with two boys and my great-uncle, to help in the fields. By the shortcut." She peered at Chagum and smiled shyly. "You remember, Highness – the one I showed you."

"Uh… Can you please call me Chagum?" he stammered.

"If you wish." The girl put her hand over her mouth to stifle a giggle. "You are very dirty, Chagum."

"Oh! I've been… Picking. Yams." Chagum blushed an even deeper red.

"Uh oh." Balsa muttered. She wrapped her arm around the boy's shoulder. "Come on – let's get you cleaned up a little and get some lunch."

"OK." The boy bowed to Nimka, unwittingly slipping into his royal persona and speech. "I am glad to see you again." She grinned in reply.

"Well – that little secret's out of the bag now." Balsa led Chagum over to the bamboo wash basin at the edge of the cluster of huts. "Everyone in the village will know by dinner."

"Will it be all right?"

"It'll have to be – not like we have a choice." Balsa smiled wryly, kneeling and directing the boy to follow suit. "Take off your tunic and hold out your arms."

"I can do it myself, Balsa!"

"Hush up and do as you're told – Highness." She laughed. The boy obeyed a little peevishly and she poured a bucket of the sun-warmed water over his arms and started to scrub with her hands. "You did a good thing, helping them with the harvest. But you should have told me if you knew what was going on."

"I'm sorry. I felt bad about it and… I was worried you'd think it was my fault."

"That would never happen – there's no way I'd think that." Balsa sighed. "Never. Now lean over at the waist – I don't want to get water all over the rest of you." He obeyed and the Spearwielder scrubbed the caked mud and dirt from his face and neck. "Better. You're starting to look almost like a prince again."

"Balsa?"

"Mmm?"

"She's different, isn't she? From last time?"

"What's that now?"

"Nimka." Chagum smiled. "She's different."

_Uh oh_. "Hmmm – is she now? And how's that?"

"I don't know." Chagum blushed. "Her…shape."

"I don't think you should be worrying about her shape, Chagum."

"What? Why?"

The Spearwielder couldn't help but smile. "Because it's time for lunch, that's why. Come on – that tunic is still filthy but it'll have to do for now. Put it back on and let's get some food."

*****

Chagum was certain of it – she was different, all right.

Different from girls at the palace, of course – not that the Crown Prince had much interaction with any of them. He had no sisters and there were no girls of his own age among the various imperial maids. There were all very old – eighteen or more, he guessed – and they were as remote to him as any other adults on the grounds. And always swathed in robes or kimono from head to toe.

Nimka was most certainly different from them. But she was different from herself, too. The girl had been kind to him at Toumi Village, but Chagum's memories of that visit were far from pleasant and if there's been anything remarkable about the girl physically, he certainly didn't remember having noticed. Surely she couldn't have changed _that_ much in a little over a year –and yet he remembered her as basically a darker-skinned version of himself, with a higher voice. Which she most certainly was _not_ now.

Why was he thinking about this, with everything that was going on? It was irritating.

Balsa was irritating, too. Nimka and the others from her village were with them at the elder's hut for their midday meal – two boys about Chagum's age or a bit younger and a man whose age Chagum couldn't guess at, but certainly older than his father. Chagum found himself sitting next to Nimka and they talked a bit, mostly about nonsense things like _yamaino_ picking and his ponytail – which she said was handsome – and the boy caught Balsa several times in the act of staring at him with a small smile on her face.

It was irritating.

He had wanted to go back out to the fields in the afternoon and help Nimka with the harvest. It felt good to be near her – strange, but good. He liked seeing her in the simple Yakue clothing she wore that was akin to his own – the trousers designed to stop at the knee, though his own were too big and hung to his ankle. On Nimka though, the lower half of her muscular legs were quite noticeable. It made Chagum feel strangely light and a little dizzy to see them.

Balsa had insisted that he stay behind in the village, with Tanda. As he watched, feeling sour and testy as Nimka and the others disappeared down the hillside, he asked her why.

"Because we have serious matters to discuss with the elder, that's why. And because I can't afford to have you too distracted when we discuss them."

'What do you mean – distracted?"

She smiled that irritating smile again. "I don't want you to get too involved in the harvest, that's all. Once young men your age get a taste of farming, they might not have much time for anything else."

"Balsa, that's silly!"

"Silly or not, we have to figure out our plan – and soon. And now that your little secret is out in the open, we probably need to leave here as soon as we can."

"Oh." He sighed, having known the truth of it all along. "Too bad - it's a nice place."

"Yes – the _place_ is very nice. But I'm beginning to feel as if we've already stayed too long."

"I quite agree." A gravelly voice called out. Chagum turned and, to his astonishment, Shaman Torogai strolled into the village center, puffing her pipe. "I was afraid I might find you here, having fun and wasting time."


	11. Revelations

.

"Torogai!" The boy gasped.

"Master!" Tanda followed suit.

Torogai shuffled up to Chagum and stopped directly in front of him, looking him up and down thoughtfully. "Is that all you've grown since I last saw you, Kid? What a disappointment – I suppose Yogo pups must mature late."

"Hey – that's mean!"

"Still." The shaman guffawed. "It _is_ good to see you alive, Boy. Looks like my idiot apprentice got my message."

"Message?" Not for the first time in the last two days Chagum felt his head spin as he tried to comprehend what was happening – happening far too quickly for him to keep up.

"What – you didn't tell him, Balsa? He'd not a child anymore, you know – not with what _he's_ seen. And even if he is a bit of a runt in the height department, looks like he's been toughening himself up a bit."

"I'm taller than you!"

"Don't let her get to you." Tanda said consolingly. By now the remaining Yakue had gathered around curiously, awestruck at the sight of the legendary shaman on top of so many other new faces. "I think we should go into the elder's hut and discuss all this, Master."

"Is there food?" Torogai winked at Chagum as she strode towards the hut. "Glad you made it, Kid – it would have been a shame if you'd died. Balsa, I suppose there were some heroics on your part to get us here?"

The others hurriedly followed Torogai into the elder's hut and Nanda, upon seeing her wizened face, bowed deeply and broke into a grin. "We are humbled to welcome you again, Torogai-dono."

"Nanda-sama." She nodded, then her eyes fell on the half-empty pot on the brazier. "Goat stew, is it? Do you have any _shochu_?"

"For you, Master, our very best."

"It'll have to do." The old shaman scooped a large bowl of stew for herself and sat cross-legged at the central table in the elder's common room. "Sit, all of you – don't stand there staring like great stupid oxen. We've got a lot to talk about."

Chagum, still feeling a bit overwhelmed, felt hands guiding him over towards the table. "Tanda, Balsa – what does she mean about a message?"

Balsa gently urged him to a cushion and sat beside him. "That's how I knew where to find you."

"In other words, I saved your life – again." The elder began to pour her a saucer of _shochu_. "Pour the boy some – he's old enough. And he'll need it before we're done talking."

"I don't think that's a good idea, Torogai-sama." Balsa frowned.

Chagum held out his hands as the elder handed him a small saucer of the barley liquor. "It's time you stopped babying him, Balsa – he's proved he's man enough as far as I'm concerned. For most things, anyway." She grinned at him. "Ever had _shochu _before, Boy?"

He shook his head numbly. "I've had ceremonial rice wine before."

"Not royal enough for your like, I suppose. Well – drink it down. I won't promise it'll put hair on your chest – its liquor, not a miracle potion – but it makes the hard talk go down easier."

Chagum felt an annoyed reply rising in him, but bit it down. Torogai just knew how to rile him, but he was the one who showed her it was working. Instead he sighed and raised the saucer to his lips.

"Chagum! Don't-"

"Too late!" Torogai cackled as he poured the liquor down in one swallow. A wet cough escaped him and he doubled over, gasping from the fire racing down from his mouth to his gut. "That's it! Good boy. That's royal fortitude for you!"

"Chagum, are you all right?" Balsa was patting his back firmly. "Torogai, why did-"

"I'm fine." Chagum rasped. He composed his breathing and slowly straightened, feeling a bit of a roiling in his stomach and a light tingle in his ears.

"Because this is not a table for children." The shaman said matter-of-factly. "And the boy's earned his place here. So let's get down to business, shall we?"

"Well." Tanda began. "Nanda-sama, I'm sorry to have deceived you. I'm sure you've guessed that this boy is no simple Yogo child."

The old man nodded and stroked his beard. "He _is_ the Crown Prince, then?" Chagum bowed slightly. "I had guessed from his attire – and his companions – that he might be. Your earlier exploits with the prince are well known to us, Balsa. Your Highness – you are most welcome here."

"Thank you." Chagum whispered, feeling quite forlorn. "I know you must be very angry with me about the men and boys being taken away. I'm very sorry about it."

"Chagum did all he could to stop it, Nanda-sama. He-"

"It's all right, Tanda. I _didn't_ stop it – did I? Just like I didn't stop the rice and millet tax or anything else. So I'm not much good to anyone, am I?"

"Yes – you've been quite the thorn in the Mikado's side, haven't you?" Torogai said softly. Chagum looked at her sharply but the old shaman only smiled.

"Taxes as well, eh?" Balsa sighed. "It does no good for you to punish yourself when you tried to do the right thing, Chagum. You've already suffered for doing so, haven't you?"

"Not compared to these people."

"Well, then, _Bochan._" Nada-sama smiled. "We have been here since long before your people came to these lands, Young Prince. We've survived much. I see no fault on your part in this – your hands were in our dirt, just as our own people's were. You are welcome as a citizen of this village ever after."

"Thanks." Chagum still felt a strong desire to atone for what had happened, despite the kind words of the old man. He's seen what the fields looked like.

"You are most kind, Elder." Balsa nodded. "But it's my belief that we should leave as soon as possible – we don't want to be the cause of any more trouble than necessary for your people."

"Finally you're talking sense, Balsa." Torogai nodded approvingly.

"I don't understand." Chagum turned to Torogai. "How did you know to send a message to Tanda? How did you know what was going to happen? And how did she send you a message, Tanda?"

"She used the _Yona Ro Gai_- the water people. She sent me a message through Nayug, using water – just like she did when you were fleeing the _La Lunga_."

"Which means this is the second time I've saved your skin, _Kitsune_. No need to thank me."

"But – how did you_ know_?" Chagum turned to Balsa desperately, feeling a profound panic welling in him. "Balsa – please!"

Her face softened and she sighed as she took his hand. "Chagum-"

"I've been making a few visits to the palace, Kid." Torogai interrupted. "I made an arrangement with that silver-haired pretty boy of a star diviner – sharing information. _Tendo_ and Yakue oral histories and all that."

"Master!" Tanda exclaimed.

"What?" Chagum felt the floor falling out from under him – whether from the _shochu _or the constantly shifting facts he though he knew, he wasn't sure. "Why didn't you tell me? Why didn't _Shuga_ tell me?"

"Well, it's not as if I wouldn't have liked to check in on you – I've got a certain proprietary interest. But your friend Shuga would have been discredited and drummed out of the Star Palace if anyone had found out he was consorting with a shaman. He insisted that you not know – trying to protect you more than anything, I'm sure. If you'd known and didn't tell your father, and it was found out…"

"Shuga." Chagum whispered. "So… So how did you know I was going to be attacked?"

The old woman pursed her lips and squirmed. "Well, that's a bit ugly, that part."

Chagum's eyes shut, tight. "It was my father, wasn't it?"

Balsa's arms were around him, but the boy tensed as stiff as a statue. "Sorry, Balsa – the kid's a sharp one. He knew it even before I told him. He just didn't want to admit it."

"So those men…" he opened his eyes and looked at Balsa. "The Eight?"

"Chagum…"

"Jin?" Chagum felt a tear escape his eye and cursed his boyish frailty. "All of them… Shuga knew, too?"

"Now hold on." Torogai interrupted. "Shuga didn't find out until after you'd already been sent on your fool's errand – seems he'd been sent on one of his own. And it was that hunter Jin that tipped him off. It was just damn lucky I dropped by to visit that night, otherwise there's no way you'd be sitting here right now – there's not a horse fast enough to have gotten that message to Balsa."

"Shuga… Didn't know? He was gone, that's right…"

Torogai smiled grimly. "So they both defied that idiot Mikado of yours – to save your skin. I know this is hard for you to hear, Boy, but think about that and be grateful."

"I am." The boy sighed, wiping his eye in what he hoped was a discreet manner. "But that still means my father tried to kill me again."

Balsa squeezed him tightly. "Why? Why, dammit? What is it with that foolish man that he can't understand how lucky he is? What did Chagum supposedly do this time?"

"As I said Balsa, Chagum's been a little thorn in his side lately – haven't you? Seems our young prince here picked up a little more from his time amongst the commoners than his father cared for. From what Shuga tells me, Jin seemed to think that the old bastard was convinced the boy was unfit to be Emperor – a danger to the empire. Tainted by his rebellious mother and touching the common people and carrying a demon from Nayug." The old shaman scowled and spit into the fire, causing it to sizzle. "Same old story – any sacrifice for the good of the kingdom. And unfortunately, he decided that he since he had a spare prince he could afford to nip this problem in the bud."

"Please, Torogai!" Tanda pleaded. "Do you have to say it that way?"

"My brother?" Chagum's hands balled into fists and he pounded his thighs as hard as he could before Balsa held his wrists in her iron grip. "That's why?"

"Brother?" Balsa asked softly.

"The Third Empress. She had a boy, in the summer…"

"That dog. The filthy bastard. He doesn't deserve to live."

"Well,_ I _won't argue with you Balsa." Torogai cackled. "But…"

"Balsa." Chagum fell against her, the full scope of the truth he'd known but refused to let himself think even worse than he'd imagined. His will to be strong dissolved in the face of his desire to be held in her strong arms. "Weren't you going to tell me?"

"I was going to tell you, _Kotora_. I promise. I just… I didn't want to see you hurt."

"Even after what happened before, you weren't going to trust me with the truth?"

"Hush now." She whispered. "I was. It was a hard thing, imagining your face when you found out. It's hard to see it even now. I'm sorry, I would have told you even if Torogai hadn't come – I promise it. You needed to know."

"Well, it didn't help, did it – keeping it from me?"

"I'm sorry." Balsa sighed. "I'm not very good at all this, Chagum. I'm doing my best."

"Balsa…" Chagum controlled his urge to cry very hard in her arms again, but just barely. The feel of her close to him helped just enough, and she showed no signs of relaxing her embrace.

"I'm sorry the kid has to hear all this – but he does." Torogai sighed, holding out her saucer for a refill. "He needs to know where things stand with that fool of a Mikado."

"So... So why were the Eight wearing Rotan uniforms?" Almost as soon as he asked it, the boy knew the answer – the dark complexity of his father's vision opening up to him like one of Shuga's scrolls. "It's- he wants to start a war!"

"Clever prince." Torogai nodded approvingly. "In the first place the idiot couldn't very well risk having his own son seen to be killed by _his_ men, undercover or not. In the second, blame the assassination of the beloved Son of Heaven on those bastards from Rota and you've got a ready-made excuse for war. Kill two birds with one stone."

"Master, please!"Tanda scolded. "I know this is important but - do you have to be so cruel about it?"

"Why does he want to start a war with Rota?" Balsa scowled. "Why now?"

Torogai shrugged. "The usual reasons – power, greed, ego. He wants to leave his mark, Balsa – just like they all do. Only this one's clever enough to get us all in trouble. Rota's right next door – they have sea ports, mines – it's a rich little plum, ripe to be picked. But in order to pick it you need money for weapons, and men to hold them – and a cause to rally the public around." She glanced and Chagum and stared down at her saucer of liquor. "The kid is popular – saved the country from draught and ruin and all – and that was just his bad luck."

_Too much! It's all too much_…"Please stop! Stop talking for a second, it's too much!"

"Chagum." Balsa rocked him against her, slowly.

"This is terrible." Tanda sighed. "That such things are possible, his own family…"

"Well – history repeats, idiot apprentice. Chagum was just in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"How long?" the boy groaned. "How long has he been planning all this, Torogai-shi? Since I first left Balsa at the palace?"

"I don't know exactly, Kid – Shuga either. But I think he hoped he could turn you around to his side – in his own twisted way, he wanted to try and save you. For whatever reason he decided he couldn't, and…"

"Tried to save me? How?" Chagum's eyes snapped open and his mouth set in a growl, teeth bared. "Mother!"

"I don't know, Boy."

"He_ did_! Balsa – he had mother killed, I know he did! She was never sick a day since I was born, never! He thought it was her fault!"

"It's possible." The shaman said softly. "Shuga seemed to think the Mikado knew it was your mother that tried to save you – set the fire and sent you away with Balsa. He branded her as trouble right then and there."

"Mother!" Chagum ground his fists into his eyes, trying to drive the image out of his mind. "She died because of me! Because he thought she was turning me against him."

"No!' Balsa held his arms again, gently stopped the boy from injuring himself. "He did it because he's insane and cruel. It has absolutely nothing to do with you, Chagum. Do you hear me? Nothing!"

"But Balsa-"

"She's right, Kid – you can't shoulder responsibility for what crazy people do. If that was what happened, it's a terrible thing – but all the blame falls on him, and none of it on you."

"Don't do this to yourself." Tanda urged. "You loved your mother and she loved you. This isn't about either of you at all – it's about him."

Chagum panted heavily, the rage boiling in him a terrible and powerful thing. He wrested his arms free and wiped his eyes with the back of his sleeves angrily. "I can't forgive this. Never. I'll kill him myself."

"No!" Balsa was with him, her voice fierce and right in his ear. "Don't go down that road, Chagum – you'll be miserable. That's not who you are."

"I'll kill him, Balsa! For what he did…"

"I won't let you." She said it in a calm, level voice and it infuriated him.

White-hot anger surged in the boy – was he to be in control of_ nothing_ in his own life? "It's not your choice!"

She smiled – actually smiled. "If the time comes, Prince, I'll kill him myself."

"What?"

"It's not as if he doesn't deserve it – but your hands weren't made for killing. It's not who you are." The spearwielder gently touched her forehead to his, as she had on the trail after she'd rescued him. "My hands are caked in blood already, Chagum. If this has to be done, let me do it for you." Chagum was stunned into silence.

"Balsa…" Tanda began. "You made me a promise."

"I know, Tanda. And I'd love to keep it. But not at this cost." She held Chagum's hands in her own. "Swear to me you'll never take that road, Chagum. If you do that, I can live with whatever happens."

"Balsa… You can't. You saved all those lives and… I was the eighth. Wasn't I?"

"You're more important. To me."

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves." Torogai interjected. "I know this is serious business and there are a lot of hurt feelings here – but the first thing we have to figure out is what to do next."

"What will the Mikado do?"

"A good question, Apprentice. Balsa, what do you think?"

"To predict the thoughts of a mind like that…" the Spearwielder closed her eyes. "They left survivors – witnesses to the attack from "Rota". And I didn't kill any of the hunters – they're beat up badly enough, but they'll live. I imagine they'll come around and limp back to the palace before the attendants and pages know what happened. So when_ they_ wake up they'll probably flee back to the Mikado and report what they saw – that they were attacked and when they woke up, the Crown Prince was gone."

"Hmmm."

"There's more. One of the hunters – he called out to me after it was all over. He had a chance to strike Chagum down and didn't."

"Jin." The boy whispered. "He was the one I stabbed."

"Jin." She nodded grimly. "I told him to report that Chagum was dead, swept away in the river or lost in a ravine while fleeing… But I don't know whether the others will back him up – and I doubt the Emperor will believe it anyway."

"Might buy us a little time." Torogai spat. "They'll likely just be getting back to the palace today, if they were injured. Whatever that crazy idiot believes is true, he'll tell the kingdom that Chagum's dead. That's the story that gets him what he wants."

"A war with Rota." Tanda whispered.

"Eventually – once they're stirred up enough and he's got his new soldiers trained how to die efficiently. Even if he thinks the kid's alive he_ might_ leave things alone for him – _if _he doesn't cause any trouble."

"Or he might send the Hunters out to kill me – again." Chagum felt trapped and desolate, Balsa's hands the only thing keeping him from slipping from the edge of the earth. "Just in case."

"We have to leave here." The Spearwielder said firmly. "Soon."

"I won't argue, Balsa." Torogai agreed. "But what then?"

"I don't know. But I don't think we need to make any rash decisions right this moment. I just want to keep Chagum safe for a while."

The old shaman puffed her pipe thoughtfully. "That might not be the worst idea in the world, actually. Whatever the Mikado does next, Chagum's alive – that's the main thing for now. Maybe you ought to lay low while I snoop around and see which way the wind's blowing. We could make a better decision about what to do next if we know what the bastard's planning."

"Hunter's Cave?" Tanda asked. Chagum's spirit lifted a little at the mention of it.

"You've still got time to lay in for winter, if you get started right away. You'll have to make a fast job of it but it could be done. Balsa?"

"Hunter's Cave. Well, I can't think of a better spot to hide for a while, I'll admit. Chagum – what do you think?"

The boy felt a fraction of his depression ebb, pleased at being asked his opinion for a change and not displeased at the notion of a return to a place where most of his memories were happy ones. "If you go, Balsa, it's fine."

She smiled. "Of course. You don't mind a little hard work, do you? We'll have to build calluses on those hands again, though."

"I still have them." He smiled weakly, holding them up. "From practicing with my_ bo_."

"Heh. Sounds like we have a plan, at least. Idiot Apprentice – you'll go with them?"

"Of course I'll go." Tanda nodded. "You didn't even need to ask."

"Good – then pack your gear and let's get moving. We can leave immediately - I'll go with you in case there's trouble on the way. Balsa can defend herself but the idiot apprentice and the runt would be useless in a fight."

"Master!"

"No." Balsa frowned. "I think we should stay here tonight and leave early in the morning."

"What? Balsa, why take such a stupid risk? If those palace rats come after you-"

"I don't think they will, not yet. They're all injured severely enough that they'll have to avoid taking me on in a direct fight. They won't come after us without going back for orders first, and it's not as if they know where we are anyway – they'd still have to search. I'll take my chances." She nodded to Chagum. "What do you think?"

_She's doing it for me. _The boy realized, and a rush of gratitude filled him. "I think we should leave tomorrow, too – if we start early enough we can get there with only one night on the trail."

Torogai threw up her hands. "I'm surrounded by fools, Nanda-sama! Kick them out of the damn village already, will you?"

The Spearwielder bowed low. "Elder – would you permit us another night in Yashiro? It may place your folk at risk if you do."

The elder glanced a little nervously at Torogai and puffed his pipe. "We would not refuse friends of our village. You have worked our fields – you're Yashiro Villagers now. I would be dishonored if you did not stay the night."

"Idiots."

"Good – that's settled. Now, could all of please leave? I want a minute with Chagum."

The boy looked at her, surprised. "I'm all right."

"I know." She smiled. "Nanda-sama, it is most discourteous to ask that you leave your own hut, but may I have a moment alone with the boy?"

"Of course." He nodded. He rose stiffly to his feet and shuffled out of the hut, herding the others ahead of him.

Once they were alone, a profound exhaustion fell upon Chagum and he lowered his head to his chest. "You didn't have to spend an extra night here for me, Balsa. I would have been all right."

"I know, _Kotora_. But we've all been through enough these last two days – a forced march into the night is the last thing we need. We're going to have a lot of work ahead of us up there anyway."

"I know." Chagum smiled weakly, raising his head a little. "I don't mind. It'll be fun."

"Fun, is it? We'll put that to the test." She rubbed the back of his neck gently. "Are you all right? It's just us now."

"No." the boy whispered. "But I don't have any choice but to keep going, do I?"

"You heard so many terrible things today, Chagum. None of it is your fault – all you've ever done is try your best. Don't blame yourself for being unlucky."

Chagum felt a profound sense of appreciation for the Spearwielder, trying so hard to keep his spirit from giving up. "I feel like it is my fault Balsa. All of it."

"But it's not. That's just your honor making you feel that way."

"You can say that…" his chin fell again. "But it doesn't bring my mother back, does it? Or the men from this village."

"Chagum, listen to me, all right?" He forced his gaze up. "When something terrible has been done to you – or many terrible things – you want to fight back, to make it all right. You don't want to wait, you just want to _do_ it. Am I right? But there are bigger forces in the world, Prince. You can't make something happen just because you want it."

She cupped his chin in her hand . "Sometimes all you can do is stay alive, Chagum. Stay alive and get strong and be healthy. All that matters to me is you – just grow and get stronger. We can't worry about the Mikado now or tomorrow and who knows, maybe not ever. Let's just stay alive and get ready for whatever happens."

It was a happy thought – to never spare another thought to his father and spend his days with Balsa. "I'll do my best." Chagum whispered.

"Of course. You always do. Just know this – I'll always be there to pick you up. I promise. And I'll never let you lose who you are, even if it makes you hate me. I will_ never_ let that happen."

"I could never hate you Balsa, never." He fell against her, battered and exhausted by the emotions that had roiled in him that day. "I can't make it unless you're with me. Please don't leave me alone."

"You can do anything you set out to do, Brave Prince. I know. But I swear it anyway - I'll always be there to protect you."

"Balsa…thanks for saving me."

"Thanks for saving _me_."

"What?"

"Nothing - it's not important. Let's just enjoy a last day in civilization, all right? It's going to be pretty lonely up there."

"I won't be lonely." Chagum clung to the thought of the cave, the bright and happy memories the three of them would make there, and tried to crowd the pain of the day out of his mind for a little while.

.

*******

.

**Author's Note, Part II: **

I want to thank everyone who has been following the story, especially those of you who've taken the time to submit reviews. If you have a moment to leave me some short feedback, I'd really appreciate it – I can't begin to tell you how helpful it is, and any reviews you guys leave are extremely welcome. Seeing your reviews makes the writing process a lot more bearable and I'm very grateful to anyone who submits one – it totally makes my day. Again, many thanks to all of you for reading – I hope you're enjoying the story so far and I hope you like the concluding chapters to follow.


	12. To Hunter's Cave

Balsa the Spearwielder was happy.

Given the events of the past two days she felt guilty about that. She'd been through a terrible physical ordeal herself, but that was nothing next to what Chagum had been through. The boy was too clever for his own good – though she'd had thoughts of protecting him from at least some of the truth, he'd figured out most of it on his own. And the rest with minimal help from Torogai.

Balsa was worried as well. Chagum was strong, brave and never timid – but how much painful knowledge could a child of thirteen endure without breaking down? The boy's emotions had ebbed and flowed so dramatically over the time since his rescue that she feared a breakdown might be coming. One much worse than the cathartic one after sparring that had seemed to actually do him some good. He was at a difficult age enduring terrible betrayals, and it was only her support that seemed able to sustain his own strength to survive.

But truth be told, that was what she wanted.

Supporting Chagum filled her with purpose in a way nothing else had. Worried and guilty she might be, but the Spearwielder relished being together with Chagum again – shoring him up and easing his burdens. Watching him grow. It was what she wanted – being together with him even under these circumstances was a tremendous weight lifted from her shoulders. Balsa knew exactly what she had to do and when that was the case, she felt as if no one in the world could challenge her will.

The future be damned. That would catch up with them soon enough, bearing all the ill fortune and pain they could endure. For now, she was going to relish every moment with Chagum and make those moments last as long as she could. And another winter spent with the two people most dear to her in all the world was a treasure to be cherished, no matter the circumstances.

It was thus that Balsa was determined to make their second and final night in Yashiro Village as pleasant and healing for Chagum as she could. He would need all his strength, physical and spiritual, for the journey ahead. She knew he held formidable reserves of the latter and he'd surprised her already with his growth in the former. But in the end he was still only a boy, and he needed her more than anything or anyone in the world.

When the elder's wife called them inside for their evening meal, she noticed Chagum casting sidelong glances as Nimka, who arrived with her great-uncle and the other children from Toumi. The boy was about to kneel at Balsa's right when she nudged his shoulder discreetly. "Sit next to her."

"What?"

_"_Sit next to her." The Spearwielder whispered._ Distraction wouldn't be a bad thing for the boy tonight, _she thought. _Let him cast his mind away from matters a boy his age should never need to consider, and onto those it should._

"Why?" he wore a panicked expression.

"Just go." She nudged with a smile, and shouldered him hard enough to cause a stumble. He glared at her peevishly but strode to Nimka's side and knelt next to her.

"Are you well, Prince?" the girl asked, lowering her eyes demurely.

"I… Yes. Thank you." Chagum blushed. "But I'd be happier if you called me Chagum."

"It seems…improper."

"Not to me." The boy smiled weakly. Nimka returned his smile and the two of them looked down at the table for several moments, saying nothing. "It was very nice of you to come help with the fall harvest."

"I'm especially glad I did." Chagum's eyes went wide and he stared at her for just a moment before looking back down again.

Chagum was not a shy boy – Balsa had seen this in him from the beginning of their time together. He'd tackled the challenges of common life with a grit and curiosity that had surprised her, then. Little he did surprised her now that she'd seen the force of his will, but it was strangely refreshing to see him as hapless and flustered as most boys his age when confronted with a pretty girl. Cloistered as he'd been it could hardly be otherwise and she felt considerable sympathy for him at being finally taken out of his element. Nevertheless, he only endeared himself to her more in his foundering. The Spearwielder shared a covert grin with Tanda and turned to her meal.

The children continued to make occasional awkward attempts at conversation as the meal progressed. Chagum remained flushed and showed none of his customary eloquence. When it was finished and Torogai and Nanda-sama were reaching for their pipes, Tanda spoke up. "Nimka-chan, you've visited Yashiro several times, haven't you?"

"Yes, Tanda-san. Since I was a little girl."

"Have you seen the waterfall – the one above the south terraces? It's very beautiful in the moonlight."

_"Hai."_

The healer smiled. "Why don't you show Chagum? You'd like to see it, wouldn't you?"

"Me?"

"I think that's a fine idea – it's a nice clear night." Balsa added. "Nimka, do you know the way?"

"Of course, Balsa-dono." She turned to Chagum and bowed slightly. "Would you like to see it, Prince?"

The boy's eyes darted quickly between Balsa and Tanda, then to Nimka. "I…"

"Go on, Chagum." Tanda urged. "The walk will do your digestion some good."

"Oh! But… Balsa, will you come too?" he begged.

"Not this time, Chagum. I'll sit with Tanda and drink tea, I think. Go and enjoy yourself."

"But…"

Nimka rose. "I will be happy to take you there. It's a sacred place to the people of this village. I can tell you the story if you like, Prince."

"I… Okay." He cast one last terrified pleading glance at Balsa, then followed the girl to the door. "Please call me Chagum, all right?"

"Can we go, too?" One of the boys from Toumi whined.

"Not this time." The elder puffed his pipe contentedly. "I'll tell you a story of our village, from the old times."

"What's you playing at, Balsa?" Torogai cackled.

"Let him think about something innocent for a change. He's already had enough of consequence to think about for two lifetimes."

"Innocent? That's not the word for what _he's_ thinking."

"You're wrong." She smiled. The Spearwielder rose and motioned to Tanda. "Let's have a walk too before the tea, what do you say? It'll be the last time we can do that without worrying about where we're going for a long while."

It was a beautiful, clear night and she walked with the healer in the moonlight, neither speaking for a long time as they wandered the footpaths in the north terrace. His hand reached out and softly enveloped hers. "Thanks for suggesting the waterfall."

Tanda grinned. "Chagum certainly wasn't going to suggest anything himself. He looked quite terrified, didn't he?"

"A sacred waterfall in the moonlight. I believe I've heard that before, somewhere."

"I can't imagine where." The healer blushed. They stopped to stare contentedly over the valleys and hills stretching away to the north, illuminated in brilliant moonlight. "Think he'll steal a kiss?"

"_You_ did. What were you, sixteen?"

"And bold. With an older woman, no less."

Balsa laughed at the memory of it. "I doubt he'll even hold her hand, poor boy. He won't have the slightest idea what to do. How could he?"

"He knows enough to blush, though. That shows he's growing up."

"Can't stop that." Balsa sighed. "Who knows when he'll have another chance to be awkward around a girl. Who knows if he'll even_ have_ another chance. Let him be embarrassed and flustered and giddy and all of it, even if it's just one time."

Tanda squeezed her hand. "Balsa, what are you planning to do? Once the winter's over? Where will you take him then?"

"I'm planning to make sure he's tucked in bed tonight – it'll be chilly."

"Balsa-"

"I'm planning to climb to Hunter's Cave and start hunting, and tanning, and gathering wood. And teaching him something new every day about wielding the spear or about surviving if you're caught out in the snow or which berries you can eat and which you can't." She smiled. "Right now that's good enough for me."

"All right." Tanda said softly. He leaned close and kissed her on the cheek. "That's good enough for me, too." Still holding hands they turned and slowly walked back down to the village.

*****

Chagum had a faraway look in his eyes when he walked back into the village, a half-step behind Nimka. They spoke a few quiet words to each other when she disappeared into a hut with her uncle, then he kept to himself for the rest of the evening, idly poking at the coals in the brazier as Balsa packed what few goods the village could spare them for the trip. She thought of asking for his help, but in the end she let him be.

The moon was still high in the sky when she tapped him on the shoulder, breaking his reverie. "We should get to sleep. It's going to be a very early start tomorrow."

The boy nodded, stood and followed her to their straw bedding in the corner of the main room. He settled himself back, hands behind his head, as she doused the lanterns bar one sleeping candle and crawled into her own bed.

"That was mean, tricking me the way you did."

Balsa smiled. "You didn't seem to mind that much. You were gone long enough."

Chagum set his jaw firmly. "She was telling me the story of the sacred waterfall. It would have been rude to cut her short."

"Did she tell you about the legend – that if you drink the water under a full moon you'll be fortunate in love?"

"Balsa!" Chagum gasped. "Really?"

"So they say around here."

"How do you know?"

"Someone told me, a long time ago."

The boy stared at her a long time. "Well, Nimka didn't say anything about that."

"Did you drink?"

"No."

"Too bad." Balsa chuckled. "You could always come back another time."

"Balsa…" Chagum rolled to face away from her and was silent for a few moments. "How long will it take us to get to Hunter's Cave from here?"

"Let's see... If you can keep a good pace, we should be there by nightfall the day after tomorrow if the weather cooperates."

"I'll keep up. How are you feeling – does your shoulder hurt?"

"A little." She yawned. "But it's nothing that'll slow me down walking. It's a journey I've made many times." The Spearwielder reached out in the dim and squeezed Chagum's arm. "It's going to be hard work. We're making a late start of it."

"I don't mind. I'll work as hard as you need me to, don't worry."

"I'm not." _Please don't ask me about what happens after. Not now. Later._

"I'm stronger than I was. I'll be more help to you this time."

"I've noticed." Balsa tugged Chagum's blanket up above his shoulders. "It's starting to get cold up here already – keep that pulled up, all right? Let's get to sleep."

"Sure." He rolled onto his back to smile at her. "Wake me up early even if I complain."

"Got it." The Spearwielder yawned and closed her eyes, listened to the Chagum's slow even breathing and felt herself relax.

"Balsa?"

"Yes, _Kotora?_"

Chagum giggled softly and in that moment, frozen in time, he was not a prince or a fugitive but a normal boy on the treacherous path to manhood, finding his way. "I held her hand."

**************************************************************************

One of the strongest memories Prince Chagum had of his first travels with Balsa was riding on a horse.

The boy had never ridden before and though the circumstances were obviously fraught with peril, he shivered when the primal memories came to him. Seated in front of the Spearwielder on the horse, with only air between he and the onrushing scenery and Balsa's secure grip around his waist keeping him safe, he felt incredibly alive. It was as if he were flying above the world, weightless, leaving the crushing weight of his life as a prince behind him.

But there had been times when they were being chased, riding too fast in places where horses shouldn't have been able to ride, that he'd been terrified. His life was completely out of his hands, left to a terrifying fate that seemed to be rushing towards him faster than he could comprehend it.

That's what the boy felt like now.

Shuga had taught Chagum of paradoxes when he was very small, and even then the quick-witted prince had been fascinated by the idea of them. As he'd grown older and chaos and confusion had exploded the world he'd once known forever, he began to see the meaning of paradox in his life. It was like being on the horse – it was wonderful and terrifying at the same time. There always seemed to be two parts of his existence that couldn't be reconciled. His life at the palace as a cloistered and morose prince, and this life with Balsa as a vagabond always in danger who owned nothing more than the clothes on his back and the dagger at his belt (and those a gift). The child who felt powerless and wanted nothing more than to be held and kept safe, and the emerging young man inside him burning with rage at the fate thrust upon him, and with other passions he didn't yet understand.

It hardly seemed possible that a mere three days earlier he'd been at the palace, surrounded by a retinue of handlers and guards at all times, assuming he'd never see his most precious person again. Since then he'd nearly been assassinated, and wounded his first opponent - a friend, no less - in battle. He'd been rescued by his most precious person and been told that his father had tried – again – to kill him, and had probably killed his mother. It wasn't as though Chagum hadn't suspected the truth when he'd been attacked. Growing up as a prince the idea of assassination was always a dim presence at the edge of consciousness, but he'd known something was deeply wrong even before he'd left the palace. His instincts were usually much smarter than he gave them credit for, if only he could be bothered to listen to them.

It was dizzying and terrifying, and left him unsettled and afraid and wounded deep in his soul. And yet, at any given moment he could turn his gaze and see Balsa and his heart would fill with such overwhelming joy and gratitude that it was all the boy could do not to shout it out. His life was in the hands of others and was racing out of his control, yet he felt freer than he ever had in his father's house. It was a paradox – like being on the horse.

And then there was the matter of Nimka, of course. That had been as exhilarating and horrifying as the frantic rides on horseback. Chagum had so little notion how to make sense of his feelings on the matter that all he could do was try and force them from his mind altogether.

Now that they were on the trail again and it was just Balsa, Torogai and Tanda with him, the boy began to feel a little calmer. This at least was familiar – a journey he'd made before to a place he knew well, though his memory of it had felt like a dream when he was living his pinched life in the Ninomiya Palace. Even his memories of Hunter's Cave brought their own paradox, though. He'd had few happier days in his life than those he'd shared with Balsa and Tanda, separate from the rest of the world, working hard to survive the winter and training his body and mind with Balsa. But they had also been times when the foreign presence of the Nyunga Ro Im inside him had been growing stronger, staking a claim on his waking will for the first time. And always, he'd lived under the shadow of the grisly death he'd fully expected to find him when they emerged in the spring.

But he didn't die. He'd found the strength to do what he had to do, the water spirit had been born and Balsa had shielded him from death. As she had again, at the start of this new journey. Chagum cherished her so much that he felt his heart would burst from the sheer power of his emotion.

The easy, congenial bickering between the three grown-ups made the boy feel safer than he'd felt in a long time. There was a goal at the end of the road and a pack to be carried, and he could focus on that and feel at least some sense of direction had touched his life. His legs and back were stronger than they'd been the last time he'd walked this road, and he could make the trip without needing to be carried. If he wasn't yet a man, at least he wasn't so much a child.

But even here, on the trail of his memories that the boy had thought were his sanctuary, his father's long reach could still find him.

There were isolated farming communities both Yogo and Yakue scattered throughout the mountains as they climbed. Chagum had remembered them as neat and well-ordered squares of crops and tidy clusters of thatched huts and wooden houses. This time he saw overgrown and ragged looking plots of land, sometimes being worked by children small enough that they should still have been on their mother's backs. Even worse, the boy had been shocked to see infantry soldiers – miserable and angry-looking - working some of the fields. He'd quickly donned the wide-brimmed _sugegasa_ hat they'd carried with them from Yashiro for such an occasion, in the unlikely event one of the foot-soldiers would have recognized him in his ragged state. But while the conical hat could hide Chagum's face, it couldn't hide the truth of why these men worked the fields.

Worst of all had been the families. Ragged-looking and thin men, women and children passing them on the trail headed downhill towards the Aoyumi Valley and the larger settlements there. They'd stared curiously at the quartet of hikers headed uphill, but Chagum would not meet their eyes. Could not.

_They're going down there to find work. When they can't, they'll beg. And lots of them will die this winter_.

It was a relief when they reached the high country and the trickle of refugees disappeared, leaving the little group alone among the pines and scrub and rock. But though they were gone Chagum could still see the faces when he closed his eyes, and there was no relief when he tried to sleep that first night.

*****

It wasn't until they reached the cave itself, at dusk on their second day on the trail, that Chagum was able to think about anything else. When they broke through the last stand of trees and into the glade where the familiar rock face came into view in the dying light, the boy felt his heart lurch and a smile rose to his face. "There it is!"

"Yep." Tanda clapped him on the shoulder.

Chagum's legs were weary from the long uphill trek, but he felt a great sense of home fill him. "Wow… I never thought I'd see this place again."

"We're lucky – first snows haven't hit yet." Torogai grinned. "Though they will soon enough, you can bet on it. You don't have a minute to lose."

"Starting tomorrow." Balsa sighed. "Tonight we rest."

Tanda walked to the small hole in the cliff, partially hidden by brush, and stepped inside. "I'll get the torches lit. There should be enough firewood stored up to last us for a week or so. Come inside and help me start cleaning up as soon as you're ready."

"Ready?" Chagum asked.

"Hush, Boy." Torogai mumbled, jerking her shoulder towards the small wooden marker at the base of a gnarled spruce.

Balsa set her pack down and slowly walked across the glade to kneel in front of the old tree. Chagum and the shaman watched silently and could hear the Spearwielder speaking softly for a few moments. Then she rose to one knee and turned. "Chagum." She beckoned him.

Torogai lifted an eyebrow, then nudged the boy away. "What're you gawking at? Go on, get over there."

Chagum walked across to where Balsa waited, feeling strangely nervous. The spearwielder's tired face was hard with emotion, but she smiled and held out her hand to him when he was close. "Kneel next to me." Chagum obeyed as she sighed and closed her eyes. "You remember when I told you about Jiguro?"

"Of course, Balsa."

Balsa opened her eyes. "Jiguro, this is Chagum. I've told you of him already." The boy bowed his head silently. "He's come to spend the winter with us again." The rough skin of her hand was on his neck. "He's still young, Jiguro – but he's got spine. You'd like him."

Balsa was silent for several heartbeats and Chagum respectfully followed her lead, pleased to have been invited to share this deeply personal moment with her. When she spoke again he was a little frightened at the catch in her voice. "I've restored your name in Kanbal, Jiguro. I hope it helps you rest a little better. I don't think I'll ever go back again – is that all right? Now it's done, my life is here now. The one I've sworn to protect is here. Thank you for giving me the chance to protect him." The sound of the wind and birdsong fell away from his ears and Chagum didn't dare speak for fear of breaking the strange spell that had seemed to cast a shell around them, separating them from the rest of the world.

Finally, after what seemed like a silent eternity of deep emotions surging inside him, the boy felt Balsa's hand clap his back firmly and heard her stand. He lifted his head and she was smiling at him. "Thank you,_ Kotora. _Now it's time to worry about staying alive, _ne_?"


	13. The Winter's Calm

The inside of the cave was much as Chagum remembered it. It was not the cramped, dank space he'd imagined in his mind's eye – rather, it was a series of chambers, the huge entryway as large as his father's dining hall. One of the three openings off this main chamber led to their central living space. This was quite cozy, a fire providing warmth and torches bathing it in light.

"Do you remember where everything is, Chagum?" The boy thought Tanda seemed quite proud of Hunter's Cave, and he took more of a host's role than the others.

"Sure." he smiled. "Like I was just here yesterday."

"Just remember not to go down that right-hand passage alone – not even I know every twist and turn in there. The spring is in the central chamber, and the "house" in on the left."

"Behind the wooden door." The boy laughed. "It'd be hard to forget."

"That's a lovely sound I don't hear enough." Balsa sighed. She sat down on one of the straw mats next to the fire pit in the "living room". "Am I right in thinking all of you are as tired as I am? It's been a long damn walk."

Chagum nodded, though he actually felt better than he had since they'd set out from Yashiro Village. The prospect of a winter with Balsa and Tanda for company filled him with a profound sense of relived anticipation.

"We can save most of the cleanup for tomorrow, I guess." Tanda said. "We've got plenty of wood for a while, and there should be enough dried meat left over from two winters ago to tide us over until we can restock the larders. It won't make the finest meals I've ever cooked, but it'll keep us alive." The healer beamed. "We might get some late-season mushrooms, if we're lucky. Chagum, I'll show you how the joys of mushroom hunting."

"That sounds like fun!"

"Every boy's dream." Torogai cackled. "Hadn't you better get started on making that dried-out venison edible then, Apprentice?"

"I suppose. How long will you be staying with us, Master?"

"Just the one night, I think. No point in barreling off anywhere in the dark. I'll pay a quick visit to the hot springs and then make my way back down the hill and find out everything I can."

"You and hot springs." Balsa yawned. "Tanda, how can I help?"

"You can take a nap before dinner, that's how. You're still recovering. Chagum, take the buckets to the spring and bring me back some water, all right? I'll start with the herbs."

*****

After dinner Balsa, Tanda and Chagum aired out the bedding and cleaned the living room a little while Torogai sat by the fire and smoked her pipe. By the time the bedding was laid out they were all so tired that sleep came almost instantly, though the noticed that the old shaman still sat, staring into the fire, as his eyes fluttered shut and he was blessed by a restful sleep.

In the morning they were confronted by the full scope of the preparations ahead of them, no longer to be avoided. Torogai made ready for an early departure, wanting no part of those menial tasks. As much as Chagum relished the thought of sharing his life with Balsa and Tanda he was sorry to see her go – as mean as the old crone was to him, she was a friend. The boy felt that he could use as many of those in his life as he could find.

"I'll see you all in four months or so." The old shaman said, shrugging her cloak into place and showing no signs of weariness. "With luck we'll have a better idea which way the wind is blowing by then."

"Thanks for helping me, Torogai-dono." Chagum bowed.

"Hmmph. As I said, I have a certain proprietary interest. Keep your wits about you, Boy – you'll have a lot more snow than last time, thanks to that water spirit you gave birth to. Don't go getting yourself killed by doing something stupid. Speaking of which, I've been meaning to ask – you don't remember anything more about how that egg got into you in the first place, do you?"

"What? No!"

"Too bad – I've been wondering about that for two years. Well, you never _were_ much use."

"Thanks." The boy scowled. "Please do something for me, Master? Please see if Shuga is okay, if you can. I'm worried about him."

"The silver-haired _bishounen_? He's a survivor, that one. He still owes me some more _tendo_ lessons, so he better be all right."

"Thank you."

"Don't mention it. Idiot apprentice, Balsa – enjoy yourselves in there. Try not to make each other too crazy." The old shaman waved her staff once and disappeared into the trees without another word.

With Torogai gone there were no further excuses to delay the start of the true work of preparation, and it proved to be an exhausting day. Chagum was bigger and stronger than the first time he'd been a part of this effort, but it had nevertheless been a long while since he'd been allowed to do any physical labor other than his covert training sessions and he felt the bitter sting of it to his very bones.

Once the interior of the living room was cleaned, the trio set about splitting firewood and gathering edible plants, two tasks that allowed no margin for delay. The plants would be covered in snow soon enough and while they could survive for a long time on dried meat if needed, they would freeze to death without their fire. All the while water was fetched and boiled in the fire pit – largely Chagum's job – for cleaning and the filling of the stone basin that would serve as their bath for the winter.

As dusk fell Chagum felt sore, tired and supremely happy. The ways of mountain life fell back upon him naturally and he found his hands more adept at the old tasks then he'd hoped. The three companions sat by the fire drinking tea and resting their aching muscles, the fruits of their labor all around them. "I think a bath before dinner, _ne_?" Tanda said.

"Luxury indeed." Balsa smiled, rubbing the ache out of her good shoulder. "You boys can go first – I'll start preparations for dinner, and Tanda can finish up while I bathe."

"As you wish." The healer nodded. "Come on then, Chagum – make yourself useful and bring us a pot of hot water for scrubbing."

"And scrub well, you two! I want that water as clear as a mountain stream when I get my turn."

In the Spartan conditions of their high mountain home there was no time for concern for such matters as privacy where baths were involved. Chagum had found it a bit unsettling at first. Though he'd always had attendants with him at the palace it was forbidden for anyone to share the bath waters themselves with a member of the royal family, and Tanda had been closer to a stranger when they'd first arrived at the cave two years earlier than he was now. But his manner was so gentle and kind that by the end of that winter the boy no longer gave the sharing of the basin more than a passing thought. He did wonder however, with a trace of guilt feeling, whether Tanda might be sharing the bath with Balsa if he weren't present.

Once scrubbed clean Chagum slowly immersed himself in the steaming waters of the basin – a natural stone depression with an ingenious plug of dried clay covering a crack in the bottom through which the old water could be allowed to drain into the soil below – and sighed deeply as the mineral-rich water soothed his sore muscles. Tanda joined him after a moment and leaned back, eyes closed. "Not exactly Torogai's hot springs but not half-bad, is it?"

"It's great." Chagum smiled, touched again by Tanda's pride in his mountain home. The healer reached into a small wrapped bundle at the edge of the bath and extracted a handful of sword-shaped leaves, sprinkling them on the water. "What are those?"

"Iris leaves." Tanda grinned. "I know it isn't Boy's Day or anything, but since we're here now, I thought… It's a tradition among the Yogo for a boy to bathe in these to build strong character, isn't it?"

"Tanda!" the boy whispered. "Thank you."

"Not that you need them, of course. And we'd better scoop them out before Balsa gets in – I'm not sure she could take any more martial spirit." Chagum laughed at the healer's wry wit, which he'd seen only rarely. "How are you feeling, Chagum? Are you holding together all right, with everything that's happened?"

The boy thought for a moment before answering. The truth was that there was a great unknown waiting for him at the end of the winter, and this was a constant source of worry when he allowed it to be. But he also wanted to relish every second of that winter, which was only just beginning. "I'm trying not to think about too much. I just want to be together for a while and try to forget the bad things."

"Chagum…" The healer shook his head sadly. "I'm sorry you have so many things you'd like to forget."

"I guess. But I'm here with you and Balsa, so I'll be okay. She'll never let anything happen to me, I know it."

"I wouldn't want to be the one to go against her where you're concerned, that's for sure. I've never seen her so fierce. I'll do what I can for you too."

"I know." Chagum inclined his head. "I'm grateful for everything you've done already. You've turned your life upside down for me twice, and you treat me like your… Um, you treat me so well and I could never pay you back for everything."

"You owe me nothing. I'd do it all again, a hundred times if I had to."

"Thanks, Tanda."

"You know, if… If there's anything you'd like to ask me, Chagum – about anything – I'd be happy to answer."

Chagum frowned, puzzled. "What?"

"You know." The boy thought his friend was blushing, though it could have been the heat of the bath. "Balsa is a protector like none other, and she'll fight for the death for you. And I know you're devoted to each other. But if there are things you need to ask, and you'd rather not ask a woman…"

"Oh!" Now Chagum thought_ he_ might be blushing.

"Anyway, you can feel free to ask anything, any time. Just so you know."

"Thanks." The boy whispered.

"So – is there anything?"

Chagum sighed, embarrassed to be asking what he was about to ask, but wanting to know badly enough to overcome it. "Tanda, why haven't you married Balsa yet?"

"What?"

"I was just wondering. I'd hoped you were-"

"That's not what I meant! I was talking about, you know – about _you._"

"But you said I could ask anything!"

"Don't you think it's a bit too… personal?"

"Oh. Sorry." _How could it be too personal when we're sitting in a bath and you said I could ask anything?_ Chagum still found himself baffled sometimes at the ways of adults. "Is that a bad question?"

"Chagum..." Tanda smiled sadly. "It's not. But it's not one I can really answer. Things between us are complicated. We've known each other a long time. Until two weeks ago I hadn't even_ seen_ Balsa since the week we brought you back to the palace."

"Really?"

"Yes. I don't know what's going to happen with us, to be honest. But I guess I'm like you – I just want to be together for a while and enjoy the time we have."

"Oh." This made Chagum quite sad, though in a way he understood the healer's feelings. It seemed so obvious that he and Balsa should be together – why should there be anything complicated about it?

"That's all? Nothing else?"

"Well… I guess I was sort of wondering. How did you know you were in love with Balsa? I mean, the first time you knew. And how old were you?"

"Hmmm." Tanda scratched his stubbly chin. He didn't bother to deny the charge. "Well, I can answer the second one first – I was probably about your age. We'd already known each other for a while then and one day I just saw her and I _knew_. That was who I wanted to be with."

Chagum frowned. "That was it? You just knew? What was different?"

Tanda chuckled. "I was different, for one thing. There comes a time in a boy's life when girls are no longer just playmates or rivals, but… Something else. Something different. It's not easy to describe but you know it when it happens." The healer nodded knowingly. "I think you know what I mean, don't you?"

"What?" This time the boy was certain that he was blushing, bur he hoped Tanda couldn't see it for the steam.

"The time you spent in the village, with Nimka. You were feeling something new, weren't you?"

Chagum looked straight down at the water. "It's very confusing."

"I know. You remember when Torogai told you about the old Yakue legend, about why the Nyunga Ro Im chooses a child of eleven or twelve to carry its egg?"

"Sort of… She said it was the life force, right?"

"Right. We Yakue believe that a child's spirit isn't fully grounded on the earth until he reaches seven or eight, and then when he reaches thirteen or fourteen, the spirit starts to become distracted by the yearning to make the next generation. So when you were your age then, your energy to protect your life was at its strongest."

"And that's why you make the best parent for the water spirit's egg." The boy sighed. "So…"

"So." The healer smiled gently. "So what you're feeling now - the thing that's new and very confusing – is your spirit starting to think about making the next generation."

"I…" Chagum felt very small and young all of a sudden. "That's scary, Tanda."

"Of course it is. But it happens to all of us, I promise you. It does make your life more complicated, I won't deny that! But it also means you'll experience all kinds of new feelings that you've never imagined. It's scary, but also exciting."

_Like riding a horse! _Chagum thought. "I can understand that. It makes sense!"

"Good." The healer laughed. "So two things I want you to remember, all right?" Chagum nodded. "First – you shouldn't be embarrassed or sad about having new feelings that are perfectly natural. And second – any time you want to ask for help understanding everything that's happening, you can ask me. How does that sound?"

There it was again – that feeling that being with Tanda and Balsa gave him. Like he was safe, at least for a while, and it filled him with a gratitude he ached to express. "Thanks, Tanda."

"You're welcome. Now we'd better make way for Balsa before she drags us out of here by the hair – she can get pretty testy when she's waiting for the bath…"

*****

A routine began to settle in quickly as Chagum and his companions prepared to survive the harsh mountain winter. As the days grew colder and the first snows seemed imminent, Tanda spent most of his days gathering mushrooms, herbs and late-season wild vegetables. Sometimes he took Chagum with him for a lesson on where to look, what to eat and what could kill him if he did. Those trips were like a vacation for the boy, as his exhausting regular job was the splitting and gathering of firewood. Balsa focused on hunting game – deer, rabbit and birds, mostly. The drying of the meat and tanning of the hides was an exhausting job that Chagum sometimes helped with, though truth be told it was his least favorite task at the cave. Necessary though he knew it was, his heart still ached for the creatures whose lives they took in order to survive.

Mornings meant rising before the sun, building a fire in the hearth and a breakfast of dried meat and fruit. The days were spent in the woods, sometimes together and sometimes alone, and the evenings – Chagum's favorite – were baths and quiet meals by firelight and stories of Kanbal and Yakue legends. As he had two winters earlier Chagum quickly grew to like this new boy he became, calloused of hand and wiry, who could tan leather and expertly split wood and cook a decent-tasting meal – thanks to Tanda's patient tutelage - for those he cherished. Life at the Ninomiya Palace quickly faded into a dreamlike memory.

Best of all, when they'd had a week's worth of time to restock their supplies and adjust to life in the mountains again, there was time for he and Balsa to train.

These lessons usually happened in the mornings, just after breakfast. Sometimes it was a simple run through the forest to build his endurance. Sometimes it was a round of strength exercises under Balsa's watchful eye. Best of all in Chagum's view was when he was able to wield the spear. It might be an hour practicing with Balsa's weapon, still too large and heavy for him really, but a challenge he relished. Sometimes they would take up makeshift _bo_ and spar vigorously, sessions that usually left him cuts and bruises as souvenirs for Tanda'a gentle hands to administer to later.

Tanda would often watch these sessions at first, eyes wide and a mug of elderberry tea in his hand. The healer would scowl when Balsa sent Chagum tumbling with her_ bo_ or rebuked him especially harshly for a badly executed maneuver. Soon, however, it became apparent that Tanda didn't relish the violent nature of the training and he would disappear on his foraging with a nod, leaving the others to their own devices.

Balsa was a hard teacher. She did not offer Chagum praise often, but neither did she often rebuke his efforts. Rather, she was matter-of-fact and direct – guiding the boy on his path with a firm hand. There were times when he felt he could detect a silent pride in her expression as she watched him, and even rare moments when she verbally noted an improvement in strength or speed, and these moments were like explosions of joy for the boy. He knew he _was_ getting better – there was no doubt of it. He could run farther without tiring, lift more without buckling, and his movements with the spear felt more polished and assured every day. He rarely landed even a glancing blow on the Spearwielder with his _bo, _but avoided her attacks more deftly and the occasional quick strike that earned a surprised grunt and a nod from her thrilled Chagum to the very core.

When these sessions were over he relished the hard-earned weariness that filled him, even the aches and pains if there had been sparring involved. As Balsa and he sat drinking cold spring water and resting for the day's chores he felt incredibly close to her, a comrade. When the snows came and they could hear the sighing of the falling flakes outside as they relaxed, Chagum always yearned to tell the Spearwielder everything that was in his heart.

"You don't like the snow, hmm?"

"No." Chagum hated the way it muffled everything, seemed to deaden the world into hushed silence. "You remembered that?"

"Of course." Balsa nodded. _Of course_. As if a small detail of his feelings was as important as life and death to her. "That's too bad, though – boys should like the snow. We used to play in it all the time where I came from."

"It snows a lot in Kanbal, doesn't it?"

"It does, but not as much as you'd think. Most of Kanbal is a cold desert, so it's actually pretty dry in the winter." She smiled. "So when we'd get a nice fall like this, we'd all be outside making forts and bombarding each other."

Chagum smiled, imagining it. "But you were only six when you left?"

"That's right. I still remember those snowstorms though. Strange, isn't it?"

"I guess." Chagum took a deep sip of water and relished the ache in his shoulders. As always, the easy familiarity between them in these moments made the boy crave to share all of his feelings with Balsa, who actually cared about those things that he was discouraged from even acknowledging as a prince. "Balsa?"

"Hmm?"

"Were you disappointed in me when I decided to stay at the palace?"

"What?" the Spearwielder frowned at this sudden turn in the conversation. "What brought that on?"

"Nothing. I just…I always wondered."

"I've never been disappointed in you, Chagum. Not one time."

"What?"

"Do you really want to know?" He nodded, a little frightened. "It broke my heart."

"Balsa?"

She smiled. "It did. But you know, I was proud of you. I was selfish – part of me wanted you to run away with me and leave all that behind. But in all the time I've known you you've always accepted what you had to do, no matter how much you hated it. I don't know if I could have been that strong."

"You're stronger than anyone I know." The boy whispered, and meant it. "I'm sorry I broke your heart."

She squeezed his hand. "It didn't hurt me that you stayed, _Kotora._ I was proud of you. It only hurt not to be with you."

Chagum felt a tear on his cheek and turned his head away quickly. "It was hard being there. I hated a lot of it. But the hardest part was not being able to see you every day."

"I know. Me too."

"The only way it was OK… It was because I knew you were out there, somewhere. Even if I didn't know where. Knowing you were there I could imagine you when I had to and…that was enough to get through the day."

The Spearwielder put her arm around his shoulder and, mindful of his soreness, gently pulled him to her. "Are you thinking about what's going to happen, Chagum? Is that why you asked me about this?"

"I don't know." He whispered. There was that awful paradox again, making his life impossible. No matter what he did, it would be the wrong decision. "I'm trying not to think about anything but now."

She sighed and squeezed him a little. "I'm so sorry about your mother, Chagum. If I had known what was going to happen, I never would have left you there."

"I know."

"I don't want to think about the spring."

He laughed bitterly. "Neither do I."

"So… Where does that leave us, then?"

"Here." Chagum answered, and let his weight fall limply against Balsa's side. For now, that was the only place he could imagine being.

*********************************************************************

Sometime during the winter at Hunter's Cave, Chagum turned fourteen years old.

Keeping track of the calendar didn't seem especially important during the winter at the cave. What needed to be known could be gleaned from the weather and the length of the days, and Balsa and Tanda were expert enough at reading those signs to place the exact date with a few days at any given moment. So Balsa the Spearwielder wasn't sure exactly what day Chagum's true birthday was.

Even so she'd wanted to do something to note the occasion, though the boy seemed reluctant to call attention to it himself. She'd had to pry the date from him reluctantly, and made her best guess as to where that fell. The snow was deep in the forests surrounding the cave by then and the air frigid, the days just beginning their slow lengthening after the winter solstice. Their forays outside were fewer and shorter now, most of their time spent in the confines of the living room. In past years she'd found it stifling after a while, and grown irritable.

This year, however, the more time she had in close proximity to Chagum and Tanda the more she relished it, and dreaded the coming of the spring.

On the day of Chagum's celebration Balsa called a moratorium on chores. Tanda had prepared them a special stew using some of their dwindling supply of fresh meat and matsutake mushrooms, and Balsa presented the boy with a leather scabbard for his dagger, crafted from some of the deerskin she'd tanned earlier in the season.

"It's beautiful." He'd whispered, holding it reverently.

"It isn't either – I'm crude when it comes to working leather. I'm sorry I couldn't have given you something finer, but given my skills and the surroundings-"

"It's beautiful." Chagum threw his arms around her waist and hugged her quickly in his strong grip, and the Spearwielder laughed. "Thank you."

"You're welcome, Chagum. May you never have to remove your blade from it again."

"May that be so." Tanda smiled. "Do you feel any different, Chagum?"

The boy shrugged, blushing. "It's just a day. I'm the same kid as yesterday."

"Well, _that's_ certainly not true." Balsa replied. "Every day's something new with you. I feel like you're growing up right in front of my eyes."

"Yeah, Chagum – I feel like we're meeting a different person every morning."

"Really? I don't feel any different."

For Balsa, thoughts of Jiguro crept back into her mind. She felt as if every time she blinked, Chagum had grown and changed in some way – a little more muscle, a bit taller, a new understanding or a new skill mastered. The boy's aptitude for new things was startling and his body was certainly keeping up. Was this how Jiguro had felt those last years of her childhood, training her and watching her grow?

Even more, she understood now the motivation that had driven the man to do the things he'd done. Balsa knew as she watched the boy happily wolfing down Tanda's special stew that she'd do anything for him – even if it meant giving the gift of her own life to preserve his. Her greatest joy would be to watch him grow up and come to know the man he'd become, but if it came to it she would surrender that joy if it meant giving him the chance to live, and be happy.

She'd even break the promise she'd made to Tanda and never broken. It was a promise well-made and intentioned, but the promises she'd made to Chagum and his mother were more important. Balsa would give up the essence of who she was to allow Chagum to preserve himself.

But what if she never got the chance? What if nothing she could do would matter?


	14. Journey's End

Author's Note: Thank you for staying with me on this long journey. As we close in on the resolution, I want to say again how much I appreciate and enjoy all of the reviews you've submitted - they really keep me going. I know it's been a long trip but I've enjoyed it and I hope you have too. Please stay with me as I spin the last few chapters and I know you won't regret it. And now, on with the story...

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As happy as Chagum's birthday had been – as happy as every day they spent together was – each one was another step closer to the coming of spring. Each day a little longer than the last, each snowfall melting a little faster than the one before. And while the world outside prepared to awaken to new birth and new growth, inside the weight of that awakening grew heavier and more foreboding.

Balsa could see it in Chagum's eyes. He still relished the training sessions they shared and seemed to throw himself into them with even more abandon, but his enthusiasm for the tasks of the day waned. He never avoided his responsibilities and he only rarely sulked, but he grew more withdrawn and spent more of the evenings in quiet reflection, leaving the conversation to the two adults. Tanda and Balsa, knowing the weight upon him and feeling it themselves, did not try and force the boy from his shell.

The day when the light and dark would be equal – the day when Chagum had met his destiny head-on two years earlier - grew closer. Each morning Balsa listened for the sounds of Torogai's return and hoped they would not reach her ears. Each foray into the woods was a little longer, the snows a little less deep, the bite in the air more kissed with the warmth of the sun.

Balsa knew it was childish to think only of the day ahead and no farther, yet still she strove to do so. Every moment she could she spent with Chagum, cleaning or cooking or walking deep in the woods. Often they didn't speak for long periods of time but she was comforted by his closeness, and hoped that the boy felt the same. Tanda respectfully allowed them their time together, fading into the background much of the time and offering quiet words of support and smiles to Chagum when they were together.

And then, one late morning when dappled sunlight shone through patches of cloud into the glade, the old shaman appeared on her donkey.

She was uncharacteristically somber upon her arrival, and seeing the despair in Balsa's eyes, sighed deeply. "I'm glad to see all of you wintered well. Everyone's in good health?"

"We're all fine, Master." Tanda bowed. "Come inside and get warm, I'll brew some tea."

"Got any wine?"

"Master! Where would we have gotten it?"

"Eh." The old shaman looked Chagum over. "Got a bit taller at last, I see. Shaving yet?"

"Not yet." Chagum forced a smile to his face. "It's good to see you, Master."

"You don't lie well – don't make a habit of it. Your face wasn't made for it." She led them into the living room and sat before the fire, extracting her pipe from her pack. "I thought Balsa might pick me off with one of her shuriken before the rest of you noticed me."

"Master!" Tanda scolded, busying himself with preparing the tea.

"Well, I'm just fine – thank you all for asking." Torogai scowled. "The hot spring was delightful. I could have done without the rest of the winter, though. You've been busy here, I assume? How's the kid's training going, Balsa?"

"He's a good student, Torogai." Balsa said softly. She felt a black depression settling over her like none she'd experienced before, but it wouldn't do to make that any more obvious to Chagum than she had to. "He could hold his own against a strong opponent. When he gets bigger he'll be truly formidable."

"Is that a fact? Hard work can overcome a lack of talent sometimes, I suppose." The shaman lit her pipe and accepted a mug of tea from her apprentice. "I don't see much point in small talk – I assume you all want to know what's happening out there."

"Is Shuga all right?" Chagum whispered.

"From what I can tell, he's still the Master Star Diviner. I thought it best not to risk being seen on palace grounds under the circumstances, but that's what I hear. Apparently he was smart enough to keep his mouth shut about what he knows."

"Thank goodness." The boy breathed.

"What're they saying about Chagum, Master?"

"Now_ that_ is an interesting question, Idiot Apprentice." Torogai glared at the boy. "The one that should have been the first out of your mouth, Kid. What do you think they're saying about you?"

Chagum smiled and stared at the floor. "I guess they're probably saying that I'm dead."

"And?"

"And that I was murdered by raiders from Rota."

"Smart Kid." The old shaman nodded approvingly. "Not that it should come as a big surprise, but that's how your father played it. They had a beautiful funeral for you – it's a shame you missed it."

Chagum laughed bitterly and ran a hand over his eyes. Balsa gently grasped it and held it in her own. "Chagum…"

"I've had two funerals already, and I'm only fourteen. And I'm not even dead yet!" The boy looked at the Spearwielder with pleading in his eyes. "Why does this happen to me, Balsa?"

"Chagum – it's not a bad thing, is it? If he wants you dead, let him think you are. Maybe he'll leave us alone."

"I don't know if it's that simple, Balsa." Torogai scowled. "My gut's telling me those hunters told him what really happened and he knows the boy's alive somewhere. As long as that's the case, he's a threat."

Her dark sadness slowly turned to anger, an emotion Balsa felt far more comfortable dealing with. "So let's leave, then. We can go to Toran, Tosei – anywhere. Even Kanbal if we had to, damn it! What difference does it make?"

Chagum met her eyes, the deep blue of his own glistening. "You'd do that?"

"Of course. For you."

Torogai stared at them, puffing thoughtfully. "What else do you want to ask me, Kid?"

The pain in the boy's face tore a hole in Balsa's gut. At that moment she hated Torogai – her cold, callous practicality. "Can't you see how hard this is for him? Can't you just let him be?"

"How bad is it?" Chagum whispered.

"Worse." Torogai spat. "The war machine's gearing up. You Yogoese are pretty easy-going but Rota's always been a sore spot. It didn't take much convincing to get them riled up about the death of their beloved prince. The Mikado's been training his new soldiers all winter and he's started to move them to the north."

"War." Tanda whispered. "Over nothing."

"Over a lie." The shaman nodded. "That's most wars though, so be fair. Thinks aren't looking too good down in Ougi, either – there's beggars on every street corner now and food shortages everywhere. Apparently old women and soldiers aren't as good at harvesting crops as farmers are. But your father figures once he's trampled over Rota and has access to all their money, he can buy a new golden age for Yogo and make everyone happy. Excepting the ones who've died, of course."

"Shut up! It's enough!" Balsa shouted.

"Balsa, calm down. Master's just-"

"You can shut up too, Tanda. You're all acting as if this is somehow Chagum's fault."

"I'm not!" the healer protested. "And it obviously isn't his fault at all!"

"He asked me, I told him." The old shaman added a trifle haughtily. "The boy showed me some steel, wanting the truth like that."

"It's all right Balsa. Don't be mad at them." Chagum's hand was still gripped tightly in Balsa's own. "It's not their fault, either. We pretty much expected all of this, right? Even if we didn't talk about it." To Torogai he asked, "Is there anything else?"

"Eh – that's the meat of it. I found out some other stuff, too, but you know what you need to know for now. So the question is – where do you people go from here?"

Chagum stood. "I want to take a walk. Balsa, will you come with me?"

The Spearwielder nodded and forced a smile to her face. "Of course." Pleased to momentarily rescue the boy from Torogai, she followed him out into the entranceway and then into the midday sun outside the cave.

The boy looked up at the sky for several seconds, then sighed deeply and started into the trees at a slow walk. "I don't understand why things happen, Balsa. As hard as I try to be grown-up and logical, I just don't understand. Why do all these things keep happening to me?"

"I don't know, _Kotora_. I don't know why my father died and why Jiguro had to kill eight men he loved and why you had to carry the Nyunga Ro Im, or why your mother died. If I could answer it for you I would – but I can't."

He smiled sadly. "Finally - something you can't protect me from, Balsa?"

"Chagum…" Balsa's voice caught in her throat and a helpless rage filled her.

"I love this place. It's so clean and so beautiful… And no other people. I wish I could stay here forever." He walked ahead for several minutes, silent and apparently deep in thought. As much as she searched, Balsa could find no words that would offer him comfort, though she wished to more than anything. Her throat was dry and no words came.

Finally, they came to a small rise and then the land descended sharply into a little valley below, the slope lines with small trees and shrubs lightly coated with wet snow. Chagum stopped and stared at the view for a moment, then turned to Balsa, eyes glistening. "I think I have to go back."

"What?"

"I think I have to. All of those people that will die if there's a war, Balsa, all those people who lost their fields-"

"No." the Spearwielder barked. Her hands shot out and took the startled boy by the shoulders, more roughly than she'd intended. "You don't have to do anything but live your own life."

"But Balsa, he's doing all these terrible things-"

"Someone always does terrible things –don't you get it?" The top of Chagum's head still came just to her chin, and the Spearwielder had to crouch to meet him eye to eye. "Don't you see that? Countries are built on lies and treachery and conquest. Your own damn country was built on lies – you of all people should know that!"

"But if I can stop-"

"You can't!" He was beginning to tear up openly now and her words were harsh and angry, but Balsa could not stop her rage from searing him painfully. "Someone will always come along to do the next terrible thing, for money or for power or whatever else he decides is important enough to kill and deceive for. You're better than all that, can't you see it? You're too good to be a part of all that filth and all those lies!"

Chagum sobbed softly, and Balsa could feel his shivers run up her arms as they gripped him. "My…my brother, Balsa – how can I just leave him? How can I just let it all happen?"

"Think of yourself, you little idiot!" she barked. "Do you really think you can make any difference against all that evil – one little boy like you?"

"Balsa…"

"Think about what you'd be doing, Chagum. Think about what you're giving up, and why. Think about the sacrifices people have made for you-"

"I know!" he shouted. The boy fell to his knees and sobs racked his chest. "Balsa, I know. But I don't know what to do!" The sight of him finally started to cool some of the white-hot anger burning inside Balsa. "Balsa, I want to stay with you!"

The Spearwielder breathed heavily, stared down at the boy before her. "I know."

"Balsa, I want to stay with you more than anything in the world! It's…it's all I…all want to do, Balsa! Don't you see that?"

"I know, Chagum." She felt weak and helpless, as if she were falling in a dream.

Chagum was sobbing deeply, desperate and forlorn cries escaping his chest. His hands were over his face. "Balsa! Please…help me…"

"I know." She was on her knees next to him and she gathered the boy in her arms, his cries echoing down the hillside and into the valley below. Balsa held his head to her chest and stroked his hair softly. "I'm here, Chagum. It's all right."

"Balsa!"

"I know." This was unlike in the fall in Yashiro Village where he'd cried in her arms. That incident had seemed almost like a relief to Chagum, a weight lifted. Now the boy she held was utterly lost in hopeless despair. Her presence alone had been enough to calm him, then, but now she felt completely powerless to do anything but accept his pain onto herself. "I'm sorry, Brave Prince."

"I have to go." Chagum moaned between sobs. "But I don't want to, Balsa. I want to stay with you!"

"I want that too." The Spearwielder whispered in his ear. "But I'll go with you, if that's what you decide."

"What?" He opened his bleary eyes and gaped up at her.

"I don't know what you think you can do, Chagum." Balsa sighed. "I don't know what you hope to do, even. But I won't let you face it by yourself if that's where you go. I'll go with you and if I have to, I'll kill him."

"N-no! I don't want that either…"

She laughed bitterly. "You aren't thinking you can reason with him?"

"No." Chagum sobbed. "He's insane. But I don't want you to kill anyone…for me. I don't want you to kill anyone at all."

"Chagum… You're such a child, you know that?"

"I'm sorry!"

"I know." She sighed, still stroking the boy's hair. "But you have to realize that he's not going to be happy to see you alive. You know things he can't let you say. He'll try and kill you again, to save his own skin."

"I know." Chagum rasped. "So if I have to, _I'll _kill him."

Balsa was proud and disgusted at the same time. "I've already told you, _Kotora_ – I won't let that happen! And do you expect to just walk in and find him in his bedchamber, unguarded?"

"It's not right for you to break your promise. Because…of me. I don't know how, but…I'll face him. If I have to, I can do it."

"That's not much of a plan, Prince."

"I know." The worst of the boy's sobbing appeared to have passed, Balsa's embrace seemingly offering some small comfort even in his despair. "But we didn't really know what we were going to do about the egg and the La Lunga either – did we?"

"It's not the same…"

"I know. But I have to, Balsa. I have to go back and at least try and change something before… Before more people die starve and we're in a war and before… Before he can hurt my brother."

Balsa was furious at the boy's childish insistence, the gross illogic of his thinking. Furious at herself for being so helpless to save him. But she was also overwhelmed by the sheer innocent nobility of him – he was untarnished in a way she could never be, and some part of her wanted to fight for his hopeless dreams. "I can't say what will happen, Chagum. But if you go, I'll be by your side."

"Thank you." Chagum wrapped her in his arms and clung as tightly as he could, and Balsa couldn't help but note that his grip grew stronger each and every day. "Thank you, Balsa."

Balsa was content, then, with holding him for a little while. At least there was that, something she never would have hoped for before the autumn day when she'd rescued him again. _I'll walk with you, Chagum. But I won't let you kill him. I'll kill him myself or die in the attempt…_

*********************************************************************

Chagum had been sad on many occasions in his life, most especially the last two years of it. But he was hard-pressed to remember a time where he'd felt as desolate and forlorn as the day they closed up Hunter's Cave for the season.

There would be a time, he hoped, when Balsa and Tanda would be called upon to visit again – to dust and clean and tan hides and dry meat and chop firewood. He hoped even more that they might do so with their children one day. But the boy knew that it was almost a certainty – whatever happened – that he'd never see the cave again himself.

Even the likelihood of Balsa coming back seemed small to him as they loaded their packs and started down the mountain. For he was taking her into terrible danger, and she was going for the sole reason of helping him. Whatever happened when they reached the palace, the odds were good that Balsa would die. And it would be his fault.

That was a terrible thought. But the thought of facing his father alone was even more terrible, by far. Chagum wondered if that made him selfish. A bad person.

Chagum had fully expected to die when they'd left the cave the last time, suffering the gruesome fate Nimka had unwittingly horrified him in describing. Torn in half by the La Lunga – the egg-eater. He'd been barely twelve and the idea of death terrified hum, but at least then he could find some sort of purpose in what he was doing. He would be sparing the empire a terrible drought and saving countless lives. And though Balsa and Tanda swore to protect him, they weren't the egg-eaters target. Chagum had taken solace in the belief that they would probably live even if he died.

He wasn't even sure what he hoped to do now. Only that he couldn't live with himself if he did nothing.

The walk down the mountain, though physically easier, was a much more unpleasant experience that their trip up it for the boy. There was little conversation, each member of the party more or less content to keep to their own thoughts. Chagum wondered if Tanda was angry with him for taking Balsa into danger – he was sure he would have been, in the healer's place. Balsa disapproved of his decision but had accepted it, and saw apparently saw no further purpose in trying to dissuade him. Only in Torogai did the boy sense approval, though the old shaman would have been loathe to express it openly.

They reached Yashiro Village late in the afternoon on their second day's walking. Nanda-sama greeted them kindly, though if anything the village was even lonelier than before. With so few hands the spring planting was a dawn to dusk job for all those strong enough to help, leaving the village itself virtually deserted during the day.

_They're all gone. And if we go to war, a lot of them will never come back._

They spent a night in the elder's hut, then left early the next morning and arrived at Tanda's hut by nightfall. "Dear me – things are going to be quite a mess." The healer sighed. "I didn't really have a chance to properly close the place up before I left."

"As long as there's wine." Torogai muttered.

"Touya and Saya will be pretty worried about us, I suppose." Balsa smiled. "Especially with the news about Chagum. We should stop in and see before we- Well…"

"They'll find out soon enough." The shaman frowned. "Better not to involve them. I think it's best if the kid shows up at the palace unannounced."

Tanda let them into the hut and groaned at the state of it. "Lots of work to do here. Sit, and I'll pour some wine. That at least shouldn't be spoiled."

"Thank the Gods. Well, Boy – I think it's time we made some hard decisions about what to do next."

The boy looked at Balsa , but she only shrugged helplessly. "I don't have any answers, Chagum. I can't fight an army so there's no point in going in by force. I'm just going to have to follow your lead."

Chagum sat, pondering the terrifying implications of that statement. Somehow he'd thought it would all become clear to him when the time came, but he was running out of time and it most certainly had not become clear. The boy was surprised when Tanda handed him a cup half-full of rice wine. "Er – thank you."

Tanda smiled. "You're not so much a boy anymore that you can't have a cup of wine, Chagum. Not with what you're taking on."

"Thanks." He took a small sip, winced, then another. "I think Balsa and I should go alone."

"Now wait-"

"He's right, Tanda." Balsa said firmly. "There's no reason for anyone else to put themselves at risk."

"I can't let you walk into the Mikado's hands by yourself! I may not be a warrior but I can hold my own in a fight."

"I know." Balsa's tone was gentle. "But we're not going to fight our way in, even if we want to. If there's any fighting, I'll be trying to fight our way_ out_ – and that will be easier without having another person to worry about."

"That's what I am to you – someone to worry about?"

"Please don't fight." Chagum whispered. "I feel bad enough taking Balsa with me, Tanda. Once I'm at the palace everyone will know I'm alive, and there's no way my father would try anything openly. Not since my death was supposed to be such a tragedy. All I want to do is keep Balsa with me until I get in to see him, and that'll be easier if it's just her." There was a steely glint in his blue eyes. "As long as I'm alive, he'll be afraid that I'll start talking. If I insist on keeping Balsa with me and insist on seeing him right away, he'll be too afraid to say no."

Tanda scowled, then threw up his hands. "Okay. That almost sounds convincing. Then what?"

Torogai barked a laugh. "It's gonna be quite a scene in there when the kid shows up. I think he's right about one thing – that idiot emperor will be too scared of what Chagum might say to cross him openly. He'll want to get Chagum behind closed doors just as badly as Chagum wants it to happen."

"But then what?" Balsa growled. "You say you don't want me to kill him, Chagum – not that I'd have an easy time getting close enough even if I wanted to. I've already told you I'm not going to let you fight him. So what do we do?"

"There_ is _another possibility." Torogai mused. "You could show up and just start telling people what happened. Court officials, soldiers, star diviners – whoever you meet. Get the word out and see if the coins come up "zen". I'm guessing there's a lot of folks not completely happy with what the Mikado's been up to this last year."

"A palace revolution?"

"It's an option, Balsa."

"I don't think it would work, though." Chagum found the idea attractive, enticing – but it felt wrong. "I don't think there are enough who would be willing to openly turn against him. I'm still going to have to confront him and I'd rather do it before he has a chance to think about it."

"Ha! You've got guts Boy, I'll give you that. Almost makes up for your lack of height." The old shaman downed her wine in a gulp and held out her cup for more. "Don't see much point in playing it safe now. I'll sneak into the palace and let Shuga know you're on the way, so we'll at least have that advantage. I'll lay low and if things go badly, maybe I can help you guys escape somehow. If it's a distraction, I can provide it. Apprentice, you need to be safe and sound in Lower Ougi in case we've got wounded."

"Naturally." The healer spat. "Fine, then – if there are wounded and by some miracle you manage to escape, take them to Touya's place and I'll make sure he knows where to find me. We can always lay low here for a while if things get ugly."

"Well – it's some sort of plan." Balsa frowned. "I don't like it, but it's a plan at least. But there's one big missing piece, Chagum. We don't know what you hope will happen once you're in with the Mikado."

"I know." _Yes I do, Balsa. I'm going to kill him for what he's done. Forgive me._

"That's not very reassuring."

"Sorry." The boy smiled weakly. "But if you're with me, I'll be all right. I'll know what to do when the time comes."

***

The farewell the following morning was one of the hardest of Chagum's life. Tanda looked angry and hurt at being left behind at the hut. Goodbyes were said, and the healer wished them good fortune. There was a great deal unsaid between Tanda and Balsa that even Chagum could sense, an argument that was almost as old as he was. Then they made to leave.

The boy turned to take a last look at Tanda standing in the doorway to his hut, a broom in hand. He quickly ran back and embraced the healer, only realizing as he did that it was the first time he had. "I'm sorry, Tanda. For everything."

The healer was clearly surprised and didn't respond immediately. He let the broom clatter to the ground and awkwardly put his arms around the boy. "I'm sorry too, Chagum. You shouldn't have to make these kinds of decisions. It's not fair."

"I…I hope I see you again."

"I hope so too. Please try and be safe."

Chagum stepped back and smiled. "Don't be mad at Balsa, all right? She's only doing this because I begged her to."

Tanda chuckled. "That's a bad lie, Chagum. Balsa only does things because she wants to – I've never met a more stubborn person in my life. Now go – they're waiting. And good luck."

And then they were gone, and Chagum found himself missing the kind face and gentle manner of the healer as soon as the hut disappeared behind them. Another place he might never see again. Almost surely never, along with its occupant.

_Too many sad thoughts. You'll be crying all day at this rate._

As they neared town they could see the Star Palace quite clearly behind the imperial walls on their right, and some of the taller pagodas as well. Chagum's stomach lurched involuntarily with the raw fear of it, and couldn't help but rethink matters. It would be so easy to turn around and flee, leave the palace and the Mikado behind forever and journey to another country, never to return. Tanda could come, too – healers and herbalists were valued everywhere. Chagum wanted nothing more than never to have to see those walls again.

"It's not too late." Balsa whispered in his ear, having deduced his thoughts.

"I can't, Balsa."

She sighed. "Stubborn boy."

Torogai left them then, with very little fanfare. She nudged Balsa and nodded, then shot Chagum a quick glance and a toothy grin, and disappeared down a warren of alleys towards the palace grounds. Just like that, she was gone. And he and Balsa were alone again.

There was to be no deception to their approach – they would circle around the palace and he would present himself at the front gate in Central Ougi. He almost smiled at the thought of it – some palace guard would have quite a story to tell.

As they walked through the streets of Central Ougi, surrounded by the residences of the wealthier merchants and government officials, Chagum felt his legs grow heavier and heavier with each passing step. Each one bringing him closer to an encounter with a man he hated, and with great peril. Each one bringing him closer to the moment he would have to give up his freedom to be with the person he cherished above all others, and who cherished him. It was almost too much – the boy felt as if he might surrender with every step. Turn and run, or just break down and cry in Balsa arms again. But he did neither and all too soon, they found themselves standing outside the main palace gate.

Chagum took a deep breath and looked up at Balsa. The spearwielder's dark eyes met his own, clouded with sadness and something harder. He threw his arms around her and held her to him one last time, trying to remember the feel of her embrace so vividly that the memory could sustain him forever, should he need it. They held each other for one breath, then another. Then, they let each other go and Chagum turned to face the gate.

The boy sighed, then took two determined strides up to the guard post and announced himself in a loud, clear voice. "I am Crown Prince Chagum. Please stand aside."

.

.

To be continued...


	15. The Return of the Prince

In all of her travels and encounters with dangers, with intrigue and betrayal and unnatural beasts from Nayug, Balsa the Spearwielder had never seen anything quite like the events that unfolded at the Imperial Palace after Chagum announced his presence.

There had been a world of skepticism from the guards, of course. It didn't surprise her that a raggedly dressed youth showing up claiming to be a dead prince wouldn't be taken at face value. But the transformation that came over Chagum was startling. It was a side of him that had been forever hidden from her, for even in the limited moments she'd shared with him at the palace he'd seemed defeated and sad, for the most part.

This boy was different. He held himself to his full height and though his voice was still a boy's, it carried an assurance and command – a hardness – that even so formidable a figure as the Spearwielder could not ignore. His face was serene and composed and his stance unyielding. If Chagum was doing it consciously she couldn't tell – this new guise seemed to fit him as well as his own skin.

Chagum's proud persistence wore down the guards and the gate and eventually, at his command, they summoned Shuga. And that's when things really began to happen.

After a few moments the silver-haired star diviner appeared in the guard tower. He looked tired and drawn, older than Balsa remembered, but when he peered down and saw Chagum a look of great wonder appeared on his face. After a moment's pause he spoke animatedly to the guard and after a moment the great gate began to slide open.

Chagum did not wait for the huge gate to complete its journey – as soon as a large enough space opened he squeezed Balsa's arm and strode confidently through the door. She followed a pace behind. Shuga appeared at the base of the tower, breathless, and stared at Chagum with his mouth agape. "My Lord!"

"Shuga."

"Highness…" the star diviner fell to his knees and the small cluster of guards around him followed suit, hiding their faces.

Balsa could see Chagum's face twitch just a little, and his breathing quickened. But the only change to his expression was a very small smile. "Please rise, Shuga. Let me see your face."

The young man's eyes were filled with tears now, and he slowly walked across to them with unsteady legs. "Your Highness – you live! It is true!"

"Shuga." The boy's smile grew just a bit, and he lightly touched Shuga's shoulder. "It's very good to see you. Very, very good."

"My Lord-"

"Come close, Shuga." The star diviner leaned in close and bowed his head so that Chagum could whisper to him, just loudly enough for Balsa to hear. "I'm sorry, Shuga. I'm sorry I couldn't tell you sooner."

"Highness, I am only glad that you're alive. That is all!"

"Shuga, I know everything. I know all of it. Balsa saved me."

Shuga looked at Balsa as if noticing her for the first time. "Then I am again in your debt, Lady Bodyguard."

She grunted. "I don't think that's going to help us much right now, but thanks."

"Shuga, I want to see my father."

A look of grave worry replaced the relief on the star diviner's face. "Highness, what…what will you say? His Majesty…he-"

"I know, Shuga. It's very important that you admit to nothing, all right? You've kept your mouth shut till now-"

"Only because I hoped you were alive, My Lord!"

"I know." The boy allowed himself to smile fully now. "But don't ruin it all now. You can be the most help to me by saying nothing – whatever happens, I don't want you being caught up in it."

The young man winced as if Chagum had stabbed him. "But Highness-"

"I owe you my life. Balsa saved me but you saved me, too. Please – just get me an audience with the Mikado. Pretend that you're as surprised as he will be."

"Highness…" the star diviner shook his head in amazement. "Feigning surprise will be no challenge, I can promise you that."

"Good." Chagum looked at Balsa and nodded. "Take us to the Ninomiya Palace for now, Shuga. I'll wait there with Balsa and you go tell my father. And let's make sure as many people as possible see us on the way."

"As you wish." The silver-haired young man stood and bowed deeply, then spun on his heels as his voice rang out. "Make way for His Highness Chagum, Son of Heaven, Crown Prince of the New Yogo Empire!"

Chagum looked at Balsa again and she gave him an encouraging grin, and they started off after the star diviner at a relaxed pace. Four guards took up places on either side of them, marching stiffly. The boy reached for her hand, then caught himself and stared straight ahead. The procession that followed was surreal – nothing in all of Balsa's days could have prepared her for it.

As they strolled through the palace grounds, Shuga announced their presence whenever an attendant or official crossed their paths. A look of confusion invariably crossed the faces of the passersby, but after an instant recognition – whether of Chagum's face or Shuga's stern seriousness Balsa couldn't be sure – set in, and they fell to their knees and bowed their foreheads to the ground. All the while Chagum stared straight ahead, his scruffy hair bobbing just below her eye level, his expression somber and composed.

While the Crown Prince's gaze never wavered, she felt free to look back at the way they'd come. As they neared the Ninimoiya Palace a trail of bowed forms showed their course, winding all the way back to the main gate like a river of supplicants. All bowing to the angel-faced boy in peasant _samue_ torn and faded by the sun and hard work.

No matter what Chagum thought, it was the boy they bowed to now – not the prince.

There were tears in the eyes of some of them. Amazement and wonder on the faces of all. When Shuga led them up the steps and into the Ninomiya Palace, a couple of attendants scurried to light the lanterns and throw wide the curtains. "I apologize, Highness. There has been no one staying in the palace since your…departure. It is not a fitting home for you in this state."

"It's fine, Shuga." Now that they were indoors the boy relaxed a little, and a look of exhaustion fell upon him. He finally did reach out and grab Balsa's hand now. "Ask someone to bring us some tea before you go to my father, will you? Chrysanthemum would be good."

"Of course, Highness. I will have some more fitting clothes sent to you as well."

"These are fine, Shuga."

"My Lord!" the star diviner gasped. "Will you face your father in the clothes of a commoner?"

"I will." Chagum nodded. "I faced his assassins in the clothes of a prince, so it seems only right. I'm proud to wear these Yakue clothes – I've worked hard in them. I've even grown into them a little, haven't I Balsa?"

"You have." Balsa agreed, and smiled at the polish and composure her charge was displaying.

"As...you wish."

"Thanks." Chagum sighed, and fell back onto a cushion wearily. "For everything, Shuga. For waiting for me all this time."

"I would have waited until my death, Highness." Shuga bowed. "Gladly." He backed out of the room and Balsa and Chagum were left alone in the dining hall. There was nothing to be done now except to wait.

"I think this is the first time I've ever been alone in here, Balsa. Except for you I mean." The boy grinned. "Maybe it's not so bad being dead – I finally found a way to clear the place of attendants and pages!"

The Spearwielder knelt next to him. "How can you be so calm, damn it? You're about to fight for your life."

"I know."

She shook her head. "I've never seen you like this, Chagum. You're like a different person."

"But I'm not." He whispered. "I'm still Chagum."

"I know. But if I didn't know you…" she laughed softly. "You have nerves of steel, _Kotora._ I'm honored to be at your side, whatever happens."

"Balsa!" He leaned against her, stealing strength from her closeness while he could. "My mother insisted that my father rebuild this palace after the fire – did you know? She always knew I'd come back."

"It's beautiful."

"So was she." The boy sighed. "But I'd rather be in Hunter's Cave any day. Or our house at the water mill."

"The mill… I saw it, you know. When I came back from Kanbal, in the summer. It hasn't been rebuilt – it's just a ruin now."

"That's sad." Chagum burrowed his head against Balsa's shoulder and she cradled it there. "That was the happiest time of my life."

"Chagum…"

A pair of female attendants scurried in carrying a tea tray. Chagum hurriedly straightened as they dusted the table and set the tray down before them. "Thank you."

"Highness." Both young women worse expressions of supreme awe, as if they were staring at a ghost, and Balsa was acutely aware of the power Chagum's presence held in this place. One of them spoke as they bowed. "May I speak, Lord?"

"Of course."

"We are most humbly grateful that have returned to us, Highness. The servants of Ninomiya Palace were…" It was plain the girl was crying. "We are most grateful that you have returned, My Lord. May you never leave us again."

"Thank you." Chagum whispered. Still bowing, they backed quickly out of the dining hall.

"Looks like you were missed." Balsa smiled.

Chagum stared after the departed attendants for a moment, then silently poured two cups of the fragrant tea. "They don't really even know me. They just know what I am."

"It didn't sound that way to me."

The boy sipped his tea quietly for a few moments, saying nothing. Then he set his half-empty cup down on the table. "I want to conserve my strength for whatever happens." He looked up at Balsa. "Would you be OK if I took a nap until they call for me?"

"Of course." A horrible thought struck her. "Are you all right? They didn't poison the tea, did they?"

Chagum laughed. "I'm fine. It's been creeping in on me since we walked through the gate. Being in this place tires me so… It's hard work." He lay his head on her shoulder and closed his eyes. "Are you sure it's all right?"

"Rest." The Spearwielder sighed. "If I can't do anything else, at least I can help you do that."

*****

The silent moments in the dining chamber, the only sounds Chagum's slow, even breathing and the occasional patter of scurrying feet out in the hall, were strange and surreal for Balsa. Like so much of the journey from Hunter's Cave that had brought them here.

_What an odd boy he is. Dropped off to sleep just like it was just another day in the mountains._

Balsa studied the boy's smooth, unlined face as he slept, struggling not to be overcome with emotions she knew would cloud her judgment in the moments to come. It was such an odd thing to consider – this beautiful, gentle child who dozed so peacefully on her shoulder was at the center of a web of deception and cruelty that could impact the entire Yogo peninsula. And he could be swept away forever in it himself, away from Balsa and perhaps even to death itself. There was a wrongness to it that ate at her gut like a disease.

_You're so much better than all this, Chagum. My sweet boy. Why did you have to born into all this?_

The Spearwielder sipped her tea and felt the waves of emotions crest and fall – anger, sorrow, pity, hate. Something else, something more powerful than any of them, for the boy next to her. But she could not surrender to any of them, not now. Not with so much resting on clear-headed thinking and quick action.

_I will get you through this, Chagum, somehow. I swear it._

Shuga hurried back into the room, pulling up short as he saw his pupil asleep on Balsa's shoulder. "Is he unwell?"

"Conserving his strength." Balsa said softly. "For what's coming."

The silver-haired youth winced. "Spearwielder, I cannot adequately express my gratitude to you for what you have done for His Highness."

"You need not. I did it because I wanted to."

"Nonetheless. I fear I have done you a grave injustice. I have not fully respected the bond between His Highness and yourself. I know only too well that he… That he is someone of great kindness and integrity. I know now that your feelings for him are genuine and deep, and his for you." The star diviner bowed low. "I am your humble servant, Spearwielder."

"Please don't do that." Balsa scowled. "We have something in common, Shuga, that's all. And you know, he cares for you very deeply."

"I have tried only to help him where I could. His burdens have been too far great for one child to carry alone." Shuga straightened and adjusted his robe. "His Majesty awaits in his receiving chamber."

_So this is it._ Balsa stroked Chagum's cheek softly. "Prince, it's time to go. Are you ready?"

The boy's eyes fluttered open, and he stared up at her, a sea of cool blue. "Yes." He lifted his head and smiled when he saw Shuga. "Is he ready, then?"

"He awaits you, Lord."

"Thanks." The boy sprang to his feet and dusted himself off. "I guess there's no point in delaying, is there?"

Shuga glanced at Balsa nervously. "The Mikado will not be expecting the Spearwielder to accompany you into his chamber, Highness."

"Then he'll have more than one surprise today, won't he Shuga?"

"But Highness… I mean no disrespect but she is a commoner. It is forbidden."

"I don't care." Chagum answered. "He's in no position to annoy me at the moment. Or to preach about what is forbidden."

"She will at least have to leave her spear, Lord. She will not be allowed inside otherwise, even if you request it."

"No!" the Spearwielder said firmly. "Absolutely not."

"Balsa, it's okay." Chagum smiled and squeezed her hand. "I knew that would happen. I need you with me, please. They won't let you in otherwise."

She stared at him for a moment, then growled and set her spear down next to the table. "This just gets worse and worse."

"It'll be all right, Balsa. I promise." He nodded at Shuga, and the star diviner led them out of the Ninomiya Palace and into the courtyard. More attendants and officials bowed to them as they passed. Chagum walked resolutely and calmly forward.

Balsa smiled at the sheer audacity of the boy. "Please don't forget yourself, _Kotora_. You're going to meet the scorpion in his own nest."

"I know, Balsa." Chagum paused outside the towering doors of the Imperial Palace, where more guards were kneeling before him. "Shuga, go inside and leave us – just for a moment. I wish to speak with Balsa."

"As you command, Highness."

Once the star diviner had stepped through the doors, Chagum turned to Balsa and smiled. "Balsa, I know what I'm going to do."

"What?"

"I know what I have to do, Balsa. I have the upper hand today - everyone in the palace knows I'm back by now. My father will be wary of what I might say, and when. He'll be on the defensive and weak."

Balsa frowned. "So what does that mean, then? What will you do?"

"Don't worry, Balsa. The thing of it is, sooner or later he'll kill me. He knows the truth will come out eventually. He'll find a way to do it, probably soon. But I don't want to die by his hand, so I'm not going to let that happen."

The Spearwielder was confused and unsettled by the boy's calm assurance. "What are you saying, Chagum?"

The boy stood on his tiptoes and kissed her lightly on the cheek. "Thank you for coming with me, Balsa. Please stay by my side, all right? If you do that, I'll be fine." Squeezing her hand, he strode to the palace doors and confidently stepped through.


	16. The Lion and the Lamb

In spite of the strong sense of purpose that gripped him, Chagum couldn't help but pause when the song of the boards under his feet and smell of lanolin and smoke reached him.

_This terrible place, again. This tomb._

How odd it was indeed, to be walking in this place of dreams and nightmares with Balsa at his side. In the boy's mind she was from a separate part of his life – no, a different life altogether. It seemed incongruous that the two could exist simultaneously.

Yet undeniably, she was there. And her presence made him feel like the frightened child who had dreaded this walk was indeed from another lifetime. Balsa had shown him what was possible, what strength could achieve in others and in himself. Today, he would not let her down.

_Stay with me, Balsa. Stay until the end._

Shuga looked back at him nervously and the boy smiled to reassure him. An enormous flood of affection welled in him for the man, so wise and yet so simple. It was important that Shuga be rewarded for his loyalty and kindness. Chagum couldn't bear the thought of the man who loved his vocation so much being shamed and dishonored. Shuga deserved better.

Yogo deserved better. Even Rota deserved better. His brother deserved better. There was only one way for that to happen, and Chagum was at peace in the knowledge. It was a burden he could carry. There were others who could rule until Torgal was old enough. In the end, Chagum only mattered because of what he could do. He deserved better, too – the boy knew it. But there was nothing to be done about that, and only he could make a difference for the others.

Shuga reached the door of the receiving chamber and stepped aside. Breathing deeply, the boy felt the reassuring leather of the scabbard hidden in the sash of his _samue_ and led Balsa and the star diviner into the chamber.

The bamboo blinds were lowered of course, just as he'd expected. His father's kneeling silhouette was plainly visible behind them, and Chagum quickly looked around the room. The Holy Sage was there. And eight men, dressed in gray, swords at their belts and stern, sad, slightly frightened expressions on their faces. Stationed near the blinds, Jin and Mon closest to the Emperor. The Hunters.

_Of course. All the ones who know the truth, and no one else._

Chagum walked halfway across the room and knelt. The boy could hear Balsa a pace or two behind him, breathing quickly. There was silence for a moment, then his father's voice. "You are truly the Son of Heaven. You have returned to us once again when all thought death had claimed you."

At the familiar sound of his father's voice Chagum felt his resolve waver, his knees weaken. _Father! He's my father, in spite of all of it. _He sounded calm, composed. Chagum was not surprised. "I…apologize for my long absence, Majesty."

"We are overcome." The Mikado said softly. "We are overcome by the enormity of it. From beyond sorrow and grief, we have exceeded happiness." Chagum felt sure he was being probed, tested. His father probably didn't know the truth of what Chagum knew for certain, though Balsa's presence had to lend weight to what the boy was sure were his suspicions. "We are puzzled, however, that you have chosen to bring a commoner into this most sacrosanct of chambers, where commoners are forbidden."

"I apologize most humbly, Majesty. It is only that Balsa the Spearwielder has now saved my life on many occasions, and I felt it would greatly dishonor her sacrifice were I to present myself to you without her presence at my side."

"We accept this reasoning." The Mikado said after a moment. Chagum felt more convinced than ever now that his father would treat him with extreme caution, if he was willing to overlook such a gross violation of protocol. The blinds began their slow ascent. "Raise your head, Prince Chagum, so that we may see your face."

The Mikado's handsome, bearded face stared down at him, eyes impassive. He covered his mouth with his hand. "We are most pleased to see you well. Our son has grown in stature and strength in his absence. We are pleased and proud."

At the sight of father's face, Chagum thought immediately of his mother and felt his heart harden. "Thank you, Majesty. May I approach closer, so that I may see my father better after such a long and painful absence?"

The Mikado shifted slightly on his cushion and out of the corner of his eyes the boy could see Jin and Mon fidget nervously. Mon was on his left, Balsa between them, but Jin was closer. Chagum could see the man's chest rising and falling rapidly as if her were running a hard sprint. "You may, Prince Chagum."

Chagum held out a flat palm behind him, gesturing Balsa to stay where she was and hoping the Spearwielder would obey. He pushed himself forward on his knees until he was three or four strides in front of his father. "I never thought I might see you again, Majesty."

"We feared this as well, of course. We fear you have endured hard and painful trials, given your state of dress."

"I apologize most humbly, Majesty. I only wished to return to your side with all possible speed."

"My son… How have you survived? How have you returned to our side when all thought you lost?"

Chagum breathed deeply and locked his eyes with his father's. "Through luck and through the kindness of others, Majesty. Many people have been kind to me and offered me help, though they be no blood relation. They have offered me shelter, protection and strengthened my body and spirit so that I might overcome the treachery that would have taken my life and return to you."

"The murderers of Rota were no match for the Son of Heaven. We are not surprised."

"It was Balsa the Spearwielder that saved me from treachery. It was she who wielded her spear and defeated the eight men who would have killed me. Yet it is the scope of her power and her mercy that she spared all of their lives – she saved me without killing a single one of them. Is she not remarkable, Majesty?"

The Mikado stiffened visibly. "She must be a formidable warrior, indeed."

Chagum felt a rush of power course through him as he spoke, relief at speaking truth in this chamber of lies. "She had fought these warriors before, Majesty. It was not the first time they had hunted me."

"We are…concerned with your demeanor, Crown Prince. You appear angry and undisciplined."

"Do I? I won't deny it." Chagum nodded. "Am I still the Crown Prince, then? I would have thought that honor would have passed to my brother."

The Mikado stared intently at the boy. "It appears that our concerns about you were correct, Prince Chagum. You do not possess the temperament to rule the New Yogo Empire. Such reckless emotion would lead us to our ruin."

"I don't think I possess the temperament either – Majesty. But I hope that I possess enough wisdom to see the lies hiding among the truth."

_I'm so sorry, Balsa. I'm so sorry, Mother. Will you forgive me?_

"Wisdom, indeed." The Mikado scowled. "You understand none of the burden we carry, Prince Chagum. You are governed by your selfish desires and tainted by filth. That you would bring filth into the very heart of the empire is ample proof of this."

White-hot rage surged and Chagum tamed it, channeled it to quell his fear and grief at what was about to happen. To do what had to be done. "She is not filth." The boy said evenly through gritted teeth. "She's greater and kinder and more powerful than anyone I've known and I cherish her. Filth is what sits in this chamber before me."

Chagum rose to his feet and took a step forward, his hand going to his sash. He heard Balsa's voice shout out his name from behind him and heard her rise to her feet.

At that moment he saw both his father and Jin look towards the scabbard at his sash, eyes going wide. He took another step and heard footsteps behind and in front of him, and his father rose with a gasp. Then Jin was standing next to the Mikado and facing Chagum, his sword drawn. Chagum froze, just for an instant, as the Hunter raised his blade. He was falling to his left and drawing his dagger when Jin's sword flashed through the air and Balsa shouted his name again and something flashed in the air next to his right ear.

Chagum's arm rose to fend off the sword blow, but it never came. The boy heard a gurgling noise and, looking up, saw the tip of Jin's sword protruding from his father's chest and blood forming on his lips. The Mikado's eyes were wide in astonishment. "What…is this?"

There was a cacophony of shouting then, and Jin pulled his sword free with a scream. A fount of blood spurted from the Mikado's chest and he pitched sideways as Jin fell to his knees, one of Balsa's shuriken protruding from his shoulder. Mon was standing over the Mikado, sword drawn and looking dazed. Jin stumbled towards him and raised his blade. "Do it!" he screamed.

Then someone grabbed Chagum from behind and he struggled for moment before realizing it was Balsa. "Stay down!" she hissed as a swarm of men descended on Jin.

Balsa tugged Chagum away from the Mikado's dais and Shuga's concerned face was staring down at him. "Highness! Are you hurt?"

Balsa threw her body over the boy, shielding him. "Stay down, Chagum. Just don't move."

"Highness!"

"Father." Chagum whispered, feeling dazed. "Let me see, Balsa! Let me go!"

There was more shouting from the dais, and Chagum struggled mightily, finally working his arms free and wriggling towards the cluster of men there. "Chagum, stop!"

Two men lay in a pool of blood. The Mikado was unmoving, a growing stain of red forming on the dais beneath him and slowly dripping down. The Holy Sage and two of the Hunters knelt over him. Jin also lay bleeding profusely from multiple wounds, Mon standing over him, sword dripping. The remaining hunters wore expressions of shock and stood still as statues. Unlike the Mikado, Jin was not still – his lips moved as if he were trying to speak. Chagum stumbled closer.

"Jin!" Mon shouted. "What have you done?"

Chagum felt Balsa's hand on his elbow and brushed it off. He stared down at the prone Hunter, whose face had turned very white. "Highness…"

"Jin." The boy knelt next to him. "Jin, why? I would-"

"You live." The man whispered. His teeth gritted in a grisly smile. "You live…"

"Spearwielder!" Mon shouted. "Get His Highness out of here – now!"

"No –wait!" Chagum felt Balsa's impossibly strong arms wrap around him and lift him from the floor. "Balsa!"

_"Go,_ Bodyguard!"

As Balsa carried him the boy looked back to see his father's still form, eyes wide and staring, now unblinking. Then they were out of the receiving chamber and he let his body go limp, submitting to be carried wherever Balsa would take him.

The first and most fundamental question Balsa had to answer was where to go next.

Chagum was limp and unresisting in her arms now, his compact solidity a dead weight. She shifted him over her shoulder and backtracked through the hallways of the Imperial Palace at a trot, finding herself standing in the courtyard of the palace grounds with alarmed court officials and servants staring at them.

"Chagum!" she whispered urgently. "Where should we go?" The boy was unresponsive, seemingly in shock. "Chagum – I don't know my way around here, damn it! Where should I go?" She shook him roughly, and this seemed to rouse him a bit.

"Ninomiya Palace." The boy mumbled. "Where we were before."

The Spearwielder looked around her, cursing at the sameness of the lavish buildings. Finally she saw one that looked familiar and started towards it at a run. Not looking behind her to see what was happening at the Imperial Palace, she arrived at the doors of Chagum's palace, panting, and pushed her way through the doors to find several servants feverishly dusting the furniture and walls in the entrance hall. "Where is the Crown Prince's sleeping chamber?"

They stared at her dumbly, struck mute by this strangest of sights on a day full of them. "Where is it? Now!" One of the young servants pointed. "Show me!" she shouted at the youth.

The trembling young man scampered down a series of hallways and led Balsa to an opulent chamber similar to the one she'd slept in after saving Chagum from the Aoyumi river. "Is…is His Highness ill?"

"He's fine." Balsa growled, pushing past the man. "Leave us for now. If Shuga comes, tell him where we are." The Spearwielder ran to the huge futon in the center of the room and gently lay Chagum down, kneeling next to him. "Chagum! Are you all right?"

"Balsa?" the boy still appeared to be dazed. "I…I think he's dead."

"I think so, Chagum. Are you hurt?"

"No." He sat up, rubbing his eyes. "I think he's dead. My father."

"I know." She nodded. "I know, Chagum."

"Jin killed him. And Jin! He's-"

"I don't know."

"Why?" The boy wrung his hands. "Why, Balsa? Why did _Jin_ kill him?"

She sighed. "To save you, Brave Prince." The boy shook his head, as if to clear it. "Chagum, should we run? Are you not safe here?"

"I don't think we should." The boy whispered. "I… I didn't do anything. I just watched it happen."

"Thank goodness." Balsa was hugely relieved, but now that the boy sat next to her safe and sound, a fierce anger swelled in her. "What were you planning?" He met her eyes briefly, looked away. "Chagum!"

"I'm sorry, Balsa. I was going to kill him."

"Why, you stupid boy? What were you thinking?"

"I'm sorry." Chagum drew his legs up and buried his face in his knees. "I didn't have any other choice."

"Murder – that was your answer? If the need arose_ I _would have killed him for you, damn it!"

"No!" he barked. "No, Balsa. I couldn't let you break your promise for me. And they would have killed you if you had."

"What did you think was going to happen to _you_?"

The boy shrugged, still hiding his face. "Maybe they would have killed me right on the spot. Maybe I would have been arrested, I don't know… But he would have been gone and they could have stopped the war and…you would have been free to go and be with Tanda."

"Idiot!" Balsa growled, incensed at the arrogance of the boy's thinking. "Just like that, you were going to throw away your life after everything – after all the times I've fought for you and Tanda and Torogai, Shuga. Even Touya! After all of that, you thought your life was just so worthless that it didn't matter?"

"No!" he shouted. "I wanted to live. I was scared, but… I couldn't just let him keep doing what he was doing." Finally, Chagum lifted his head. "I didn't want to die, Balsa! But I didn't want you to die either. Or anyone else!"

"Chagum-"

"Or Jin!" The boy began to tremble. "Now he died for me, just like Mother did."

"You planned it, didn't you? You knew they'd forbid my spear, so I couldn't kill him before you did."

"I'm sorry." Chagum's trembling was becoming more violent as he stared straight ahead, eyes wide. "My father's dead. He's really dead, just like that. He was alive one second…"

"I know." Balsa clasped his shoulders, trying to calm his tremors. _He's never seen death before_. She realized. _And he saw his own father killed in front of his eyes._

"And Jin…"

"I don't know." She drew him to her, trying to still his shivering. "Calm down, now. It's happened, but it's over. No one forced Jin to do anything and you didn't hurt anyone. He made a choice, that's all."

"But Balsa-"

"Calm down. You didn't hurt anyone, Brave Prince. You stood up to your father, that's all that happened. You told the truth and you stood your ground like a tiger."

"But I would have-"

"No, you wouldn't. Stop thinking about it now. It's all over." Balsa couldn't stop her mind from following that thread and wondering, but in the end it didn't matter. Chagum was alive, and that was what mattered.

The Spearwielder spun as footsteps clattered into the room. Mon and Shuga entered, the former's clothes stained with blood. Both men wore expressions of shock. Mon bowed low and touched his forehead to the floor. "Your Majesty."

Chagum stared at the man's prone form, soon joined by Shuga's. "What?"

"The… The Mikado is dead, My Lord. I offer myself to your command. We are your Hunters, Majesty."

"Please get up." The boy rasped. "What about Jin?"

Mon rose and rapidly brushed a sleeve across his eyes. It was now, only in the relative calm of the moment, that Balsa noted the bend in the man's nose. "The traitor Jin is dead, Majesty."

Chagum shut his eyes quickly. "He's dead?"

Mon nodded. "He raised his sword against His Majesty. Your Highness saw and tried to stop him, but even alerted by your actions, we were too late to save His Majesty. Jin was killed while attempting to flee." He bowed again. "That it what I saw, My Lord."

Chagum's weight went slack against Balsa. "My father…is dead?"

"Yes, Majesty." Shuga spoke for the first time. "The Holy Sage is with the body. He died instantly, My Lord."

"What are your orders, Majesty?"

"Majesty?" Chagum looked at Balsa pleadingly. "I'm the Mikado now?"

"Be brave." She whispered helplessly, out of her element and stunned. "Stay calm and focused, _Kotora_. One move at a time."

The boy sighed and closed his eyes. "Shuga, can you try and keep everyone calm?"

"I will do my best, Lord."

"You… You and Mon can do what you need to. Tell the council. Make an announcement to the people, I guess. Tell them I'm alive and… That I'm the Emperor, now."

"Aye."

"There will have to be a funeral, right?"

"Yes, Majesty." Shuga nodded. "And a coronation as well."

The boy started, a sharp intake of breath. "Coronation?"

"Yes, Lord."

"Do you… Do you know how to do all that?"

The star diviner's mouth dropped open. "I… I will consult with the Holy Sage, Majesty. It will be done according to tradition. I will personally see to it, you need not worry."

"Thanks."

"Majesty." Mon intoned deeply. "What shall the people be told of the Mikado's death? And of your return?"

"Told?" He again looked to Balsa for help, a small boy hugging his knees in anxiety, and she hated her inability to offer more than her presence. "I don't know."

"I can't answer, Chagum." Balsa whispered. "I only know the ways of battle, not politics. But think carefully about what you say."

He smiled sadly and touched her cheek. "I know."

"Majesty?"

"Tell them… Tell them the Mikado was taken by a sudden illness. Make up something convincing – I'm sure the Holy Sage would be good for that." The boy scowled. "How fitting to honor my father by ending his reign with a lie."

"Aye, Lord."

"And tell them that I was not attacked by men of Rota. Tell them that I was attacked by a band of highwaymen, from our own country. That they held me captive. That my father was mistaken, and that Rota is innocent."

Mon lowered his head. "My Lord, it will be as you say."

"Are you certain, Majesty?" Shuga asked gently.

"Yes, Shuga. And prepare to send an emissary to Rota to convey our apologies at falsely accusing them. A General or Ambassador or someone, whoever you think best. And Shuga?"

"Yes, Highness?"

"Majesty, you mean." Chagum sighed. "Tell the people that I was saved from my captors by Balsa the Spearwielder, and that she returned me safely to the palace. Tell them that she is a hero and a friend of the throne."

"Apologies - Majesty! It shall be so."

"Thank you." The boy's head fell to his chest wearily and he closed his eyes. "Please make my mother's sleeping chamber ready for Balsa's use – she'll be staying for a while. And let me know if you need me for anything else, all right?"

"Of course, Lord." Shuga shared a glance with Mon, then both men bowed and backed out of the chamber.

"Balsa." The Spearwielder was as disoriented as if she'd stepped into Nayug itself, so dramatically had the world around her changed in a single moment. "Balsa!"

"Sorry, Chagum. I'm here." It seemed impossible to look at the boy next to her and think that he was the Mikado, the ruler of all Yogo. Only days earlier he'd been cleaning their cave in the mountains and boiling dried meat for dinner.

He held out his arms to her, without raising his head. "Don't leave me, Balsa. Please."

"I'm right here." She took him into her arms and held the boy, trembling again, against her. "Don't worry."

"Tell me it's not different, Balsa. Please."

"It's not different." She whispered, but not really believing it in her heart.

"Don't leave, Balsa. Please don't."

It was the same voice she knew, the same arms that grasped her, the same hair she gently smoothed. "I know, Chagum. I'll be here, don't be afraid."

"Promise?"

"I promise." It _was_ the same boy, that was what was so confounding. Against all logic and reason, when she held Chagum she couldn't convince herself otherwise. "I'm going to need you to be brave again. Can you do that?"

"Yes." The boy whispered into her shoulder. "But not today, okay? Tomorrow."

.

.

To be continued...


	17. The Mikado and the Prince

Chagum's sleep was plagued by disturbing dreams, but the most disturbing thing was waking to a world that felt more unreal than his dreams had.

His father was dead, murdered in front of his eyes. A brave man had given his own life out of devotion to him. And now the boy was tasked with the responsibility of leading a country that was at risk of war – a responsibility he'd neither wanted nor sought. How could anyone's life change so much in a matter of a few days?

When it came time for Chagum to receive visitors, he did so in the great hall of his own palace. While the boy knew he'd have to make the Mikado's chambers his own eventually, he couldn't – not yet. Not until he'd cleansed his memory of what had happened there, as much as such a thing could be done.

And not until he'd made some serious changes to the place.

The boy chose to wear his Yakue clothes yet again. They were far more comfortable than his royal attire, but he knew that part of it was just spite. He knew how it would have horrified his father.

The worst part of it was that Balsa had insisted on leaving him to face his visitors alone. Her reasoning had been simple – it was something the boy would have to learn to do anyway, so better to start right away. She wouldn't be there to prop him up forever, and if he'd stood up to his father as a prince, he could stand up to anyone as a Mikado.

But the idea of having to face that life without Balsa was scarier even than facing his father.

His first callers that morning were the Hunters, who were led into his hall by Mon. Chagum could sense the added wariness in their always measured step. They were unsure what to expect from him. Truth be told, he wasn't sure either.

Their leader bowed a few paces in front of him, forehead to the ground. The others – only seven made their number now – behind him. "Your Majesty. We await your command."

"Get up. That's my command." It hung in the air unsaid, a great looming presence in the room - these men had tried to kill him. In fact, on more than one occasion. "Will you bow to the boy whose life you valued so cheaply last autumn?"

"We will, Lord." Mon intoned. He raised his head but did not stand. "We are the instrument of the Divine Hand. Thus it has been since the time of our empire's founding. I can offer no apology for doing the bidding of our Lord."

"_Trying_ to, you mean." Chagum smiled.

"Yes, My Lord."

The boy sighed. "What will become of your number now, Mon? Will you now be only the seven?"

"We must be the eight, Majesty. As we have since the beginning."

"But how is that? Jin had no son, did he?" Chagum's heart felt heavy at the thought of the devoted young hunter who had valued Chagum's life above his own. "Jin the traitor, I think you call him?"

"So I call him for the ears of others, Lord. For our number, he is a fallen comrade to be mourned. While I cannot accept his choice, I do understand it." The scarred hunter's eyes held the young Mikado's, unblinking. "Jin had a brother – younger by three years. While it is custom that no member of the Hunter's family may know his true nature, he must now be told and trained to join our number."

"I see." Here was yet another paradox. These men had tried to kill him, yet they had also gladly risked their own lives fighting impossible odds against the La Lunga to save his. And Chagum felt the loss of every friend and ally too keenly to push others away unthinking. "What would you do in my place, Mon? What would you do if our situations were reversed?"

The Hunter straightened a little. "I would not hazard to say, Lord. No action you may take could be incorrect, after all. You are the Divine Hand."

Chagum laughed in genuine mirth, for the first time in days, at the absurdity of it. "Thank you, Mon. My only wish is that if I should act unwisely, you'll give me your honest counsel. For now, I ask that you do whatever you can to prevent this stupid war my father was trying to start."

"Y-yes, Majesty." Mon was clearly taken aback at the young emperor's bluntness, which gave the boy no end of satisfaction.

"What will you tell Jin's brother, Mon? About how he died?"

The leader of the hunters paused for a moment. "Would anything be served, Lord, by telling him aught but that Jin died bravely in defense of his Mikado?"

Chagum closed his eyes. "That's it, Mon. I guess you should leave. Do I have to dismiss you or something?"

"Er – it is custom, My Lord."

"Custom… All right then – all of you can go. And good luck with your new recruit. May he be as pure of heart and compassionate as the one he's replacing." Mon bowed again and led the clearly bemused Hunters out of the great hall.

Shuga came in next, which Chagum was glad of. But with him was the Holy Sage.

Chagum had never disliked the Holy Sage, but the old man had been one of the least enjoyable adults the young prince had even known. He smelled like wet leather and his somber tone had always made Chagum feel like it would be a capital offense to cough or burp in front of him. And though he didn't understand the details of the old man's role, the boy knew full-well that none of his father's decisions were executed without the Holy Sage's blessing. Nanai-sama himself had been Holy Sage, after all. That was the most important thing he knew about the old scholar, given the current circumstances.

"Please don't kneel, Shuga. It makes me feel strange."

"But Majesty-"

"Just…_don't_, all right?" Falling into old habits, the boy instantly felt regret for snapping at Shuga. _By the Gods, he's so dense sometimes_! "I just need something to be normal, please. I'm tired of looking at the tops of people's heads, especially friends."

"As you wish." The star diviner stood, fighting a smile that determinedly crept to the corners of his lips.

"Shuga, you're by far the most loyal and dedicated friend I've ever had in this place. No matter what happened, I could never have doubted you for a second. Please do me a favor and don't change, will you? I need you to be exactly who you are."

"I will…attempt always to do so, Majesty."

"Thanks." Chagum sighed, and turned to the Holy Sage. "I know this can't be an easy day for you, Holiness. You served my father during his entire reign, right?"

"I did, My Lord." The old man bowed. He looked older today than Chagum had seen him, but he held himself as straight as his age allowed and did not appear repentant in any way. "And his father before him."

"You supported my father's decision to have me killed, I assume?"

The Sage flinched, and Shuga gasped. The older man gathered himself. "I cautioned His Majesty against taking any action that could not later be undone. But I did not counsel against it."

"I think that was a bad decision he made, Holiness. One I'd like to think I would never make." The young Mikado glared at Holy Sage, blue eyes taking on the tone of steel. "Do you consider me to be soiled, Holiness? Do you think my mother poisoned my mind or my time with the commoners or my connection with Nayug has warped me? Am I unfit to rule?" This was not what Chagum had planned to do – he sensed the rashness of it. But now that he was sitting where he was, the boy could not stop the words from flowing.

"Majesty, Please!" Shuga begged.

The old sage stared at Chagum thoughtfully for several seconds. "I feel His Majesty is a young man of remarkable intelligence and compassion. I think he possesses gifts of persuasion that cannot be taught, and he might one day make a Mikado of unprecedented power and prestige. I regret that he does not appear to me to have sufficient respect for the history and traditions of his ancestors, and is too concerned with matters unbecoming his position." He bowed stiffly. "But I do not believe he is tainted by filth or evil, no. And I do not believe he is unfit to rule."

_Does that make you a coward, then?_ The young Mikado thought bitterly. "Thank you for your honesty, Holy Sage."

"Majesty."

"As you are the most learned among our people and possess unequalled knowledge of our laws and traditions, I have a question I think you'd be best suited to answer. Do I have the authority to dismiss you?"

"Majesty!" Shuga gasped.

The old man nodded. "You do, Your Majesty. But if I may plead for your kind indulgence, it is my wish that I be allowed to retire. I have served too long, I think, and I have reason to believe that my judgment has become unsound. And with respect, My Lord, the kingdom would be best served if you were to have a Holy Sage in whom you could feel complete confidence and trust."

Chagum scratched his chin and stared at the old man, surprised at his words. "Shuga, if I were to ask, would you be willing to honor me by becoming Holy Sage?"

The star diviner stared for a moment, then bowed awkwardly. "I would serve you in any capacity you desire, Majesty. Gladly. But-"

"I don't accept your retirement, Holiness."

The old man gaped. "Majasty?"

"If you love your Mikado and your empire, I need you to help Shuga as much as you can. Teach him the ways of your job because I don't think there's anyone else who can do it. And I need him to be as ready as possible." The boy smiled. "Then you can retire."

"As you wish, My Lord."

"Good." Chagum was exhausted already, and his body felt stiff and tense. He stretched his arms up over his head. "Damn, am I going to have to do this every day, Shuga? I'm not sure I can. What a chore."

"I will attempt to spare you from as much of it as possible, Majesty, if you wish it."

"I wish it. What's the latest on the envoy to Rota?"

"If I may, Lord." The Holy Sage bowed. "It was my recommendation that our ambassador to Rota be sent, along with a small personal guard. It will be a delicate matter to extract ourselves from and a military contingent might be misinterpreted."

"Delicate? Because we tried to start a war over nothing, you mean?" The boy laughed at the stupidity of it. "I'll apologize myself if I have to – or maybe I can challenge their king to a little _rucha_ match. Their _porak's_ not so tough once you know the secret of it – I defeated a Rota boy in a match once, you know. What do you think?" The two men only stared blankly. "No? Okay, we'll try it your way first."

Chagum chuckled, enjoying himself a little for the first time. "Shuga, I'm going to give you some orders now, all right? If I don't have the power to do something stop me."

"I…yes, Majesty."

"While the Mikado's chamber is being cleaned up, I want the bamboo blinds taken down. Just remove the stupid things, I hate them. If I'm talking to someone I want to see their face." Noting the look of horror on the Holy Sage's face Chagum turned to him. "I've already rejected your retirement, so if you have something to say, say it. Can I do that?"

"If it is your wish, Majesty – you may."

"Good ." the boy nodded. "I want to change some laws, too. If I need the council or something just tell me, Shuga. First of all, I want you to tell the people that they won't go blind from seeing the face of a member of the royal family."

"I see." The young star diviner again looked as if he were trying not to grin. "You know, Lord, that this has been the custom in our land since-"

"Since our founding, I know. I don't care – it's one of the dumbest things I've ever heard. And it's obviously not true. I know I can't get rid of all the lies but I can at least start with the small ones."

"It shall be done."

"Good. I also want all of the Yakue men who were forced into the army released to return to their villages. They might still be able to help with some of the spring planting. And I want the rice and millet tax returned to what it was before my father increased it last summer, and all of the farms that were seized returned to their owners – the ones who aren't dead of starvation, anyway. And order all of the ones who were jailed for not paying their taxes released immediately."

"My Lord!" the Holy Sage gasped.

"I…I believe you may need the council to approve those changes, Majesty."

"I have to wait? Damn." Chagum sighed. What was the good of being Mikado if you couldn't change all of the important stuff right away? "But I don't really want to do anything _new_ – I just want it back to the way it was before."

"As you say." Shuga nodded carefully. "Nevertheless, on such matters the council must meet. If you are firm in your intentions, they may not go against your wishes – but it would serve you well to include them in the decisions. I do not think they will offer strong opposition as the matter is clearly so important to you."

"I guess." The boy sighed.

"And if I may, Majesty." The Holy Sage added. "Until we are certain that war can be avoided – and the kingdom of Rota is likely quite enraged with ours – it would be unwise to dismiss all of the new draftees at once."

"Oh, I suppose that makes sense." Chagum admitted grudgingly. "But the fields will need to be planted, and soon. So call a council meeting, Shuga – I think this needs to be done quickly."

"It will be done, Majesty." He raised an eyebrow. "Anything else?"

Chagum chuckled, thinking about how absurd he sounded even to his own years. It was as if he were watching a play being acted out. "Don't worry, just easy stuff. Do you remember the healer, Tanda? My friend?"

"I do, Lord. His bravery helped save you from the La Lunga."

"That's him." The boy smiled. "He should be down in Lower Ougi – please ask him to come to the palace. I miss him terribly and I want to see him, and he should be here for my coronation anyway. If you can't find him you can ask after him at the shop of an errand-runner named Touya, near the river."

"Again, it shall be done, Lord."

"Where's Balsa right now?"

"I believe she is in the baths, Majesty."

"I want to go for a walk in a little while, so fetch her and ask her to meet me in my dining hall, please? But before you do that… Is there some sort of royal carpenter, or builder or something?"

Shuga frowned. "Majesty?"

"Yes, a builder…" He turned to the Holy Sage. "Holiness, if I were to want something built quickly and well – a structure of wood - who would be the best person to ask?"

The old man nodded. "If you will accept my discretion, My Lord, I could have the finest of the royal carpenters sent to you."

"Do they have a lot of men? Can they build something quickly?"

"Lord… You are the Mikado. If it is within reason it can be as many men and as quickly as you desire."

"Good, thanks. Have them meet me here right away, please? I don't want to wait on that one. Go and summon them right now. And have them bring drawing paper and ink." The old man stared at him expectantly "Oh, sorry! I dismiss you, Holiness."

"Thank you, Lord." The old man bowed and shuffled out of the room.

Shuga frowned. "May I inquire of the nature of your request, Majesty?"

"It's nothing all that important, Shuga. Just something I really want to do." The boy stood and stretched the kinks from his muscles. Suddenly, he felt deeply embarrassed. "How was it, Shuga? Was I all right?"

"Lord!"

"Well – was I? I felt like an idiot the whole time. I'm not even allowed to wear a sword in court yet and I'm supposed to act like the Mikado."

The star diviner smiled. "Majesty, for your first day I think you did very well. Though I disapprove of your dress."

"You would." The boy sighed. "Are you going to be all right with everything – being Holy Sage and all? I wouldn't ask it of you if there was anyone else I trusted."

"I would gladly do this for you, Majesty. It is no burden compared to the one you must carry."

"Thanks." Chagum sighed. The effort of his performance had left him thoroughly spent, so unnatural had it felt. And the notion that he would have to repeat it for the rest of his life felt almost like a death sentence.

*****

When Chagum returned to his dining hall a short while later and saw Balsa picking at a huge array of delicacies laid out before her, it was all he could do not to spring to her side and throw his arms around her on the spot. _If I was drowning, wouldn't I grasp a lifeline?_

The Spearwielder smiled when she saw him, and he did allow himself the indulgence of grasping her hands in his own as he knelt next to her. "Balsa."

"Chagum. Still wearing your farming clothes? I bet that annoyed them to no end."

He shrugged. "They're comfortable. But I know I'll have to give in sooner or later."

"So how did it go?"

"All right, I guess." Chagum sighed. "How seriously should I take it when men who tried to kill me a few months ago pledge their undying loyalty to me now?"

The Spearwielder scowled. "I hate politics, I really do. But I don't think you have to worry too much – you're the Mikado now, after all. Even if they did try and kill you they were never disloyal to _him_."

"I guess. At least I have Shuga on my side. Are you okay?"

She smiled. "I'm just fine, Chagum. But I feel completely lost in a place like this."

Her words were like a knife in his gut, but the young Mikado kept his face composed. "I know, Balsa. I'm sorry for all of this."

"Don't apologize! It's just too many days on the trail and nights sleeping on the ground. It ruins you for places like this."

"I know." The boy looked around the hall sadly. "It's so much better out there, isn't it?"

"Chagum…"

"Anyway." The boy forced sad thoughts out of his mind. "I want you to come with me to meet someone. Do you want to finish eating, or-"

"This is enough food for an army! I'm fine. But where are we going?"

Smiling, the boy bounced to his feet and tugged Balsa after him. "Come on and I'll show you." He led her by hand out of the Ninomiya Palace and into the central courtyard, two royal guards falling in behind them. "It's not far – we're going to the Third Palace."

Balsa nodded knowingly. "I get it. But since you're the Mikado now, shouldn't you ask them to come to _you_?"

"Why? My legs are working perfectly fine."

Balsa laughed. "Chagum, you're going to cause these poor people terrible distress just walking around the place wherever you want."

"I don't care." The boy scowled. "I really don't, Balsa. I'm not going to stop doing everything I like just because of some stupid title. Let them force me to do things their way – if they can. Until they do I'm going to make them as miserable as possible if they try."

"I bet you will, too!"

They walked hand in hand for a few moments until they arrived at the Third Palace, where another pair of guards stood guard outside. They started upon seeing their new emperor, then fell to their knees before him. "Is the Third Empress at home?" the boy asked politely.

"She is, Majesty. Shall we have her summoned to your receiving chamber?"

"No – I'd like to go inside, if I could. Could you ask her to bring my brother and meet me in the teahouse?"

"As you command, Majesty."

"Come on." Chagum grinned, tugging at Balsa's hand. "This is my favorite place in the Third Palace – I don't have anything like it at mine." He led her through the lush and intricately landscaped grounds, across a small bridge over a burbling creek and to the small open structure in the courtyard and they sat on the bench inside to wait. "What do you think, Balsa?"

"It's beautiful."

"I like it here." The boy squeezed her hand and closed his eyes. "I don't think she's going to be very glad to see me, so it might not be pleasant at first."

"Politics again." Balsa spat.

"I guess." Chagum felt a sinking sensation in his gut, feeling Balsa's discomfort as clearly as if it were his own. "My father didn't let me see Torgal for a long time. I've only met him once."

"Really?"

"Well, he… I don't know. He didn't think I was a good influence on Torgal I guess. He didn't want Torgal to turn out like me."

"Then he was an even bigger fool than I thought." The Spearwielder gently stroked Chagum's cheek. "How could any man be so blind to the truth right before his eyes?"

"Thanks." The boy whispered. "But you know, he was probably right. I don't think I was made for all this. I'm not very good at it."

"Don't say that, Chagum. Believe in yourself. You can do amazing things here. Just because you aren't ruthless and a liar that doesn't mean you can't do more good in this job than all of them put together. You can just do it a different way."

"Do…you really believe that?"

"A better way." She smiled. "Do you remember what you said when Tanda asked you what you wanted to do for a career? You said you wanted a job where you could help people. Well – it's hard to imagine a better job if you want to do that."

"I guess that's true…"

"You can do anything you want to, I've seen it. Just trust yourself and don't try and change."

_Will you help me, Balsa? I don't think I can do it otherwise…_

"Chagum?"

"Sorry." The boy smiled up at her. "You know what I think? I'm going to give Torgal as good a life as I can. I'm going to try and make it peaceful and fun and make him happy as much as I can. And then, you know what?"

"What?" Balsa frowned, puzzled.

"When he's thirteen, I'm going to abdicate. I'm going to walk away and let Torgal take over. And I'm going to go and be free and travel and do whatever I want."

"What?" Balsa gasped. "That's thinking a long way off, isn't it? You better worry about tomorrow first."

He shrugged. "That's what I'm going to do, Balsa. Just you wait and see. We can travel to places you've never seen, if you want. Doesn't that sound fun?"

"It does, _Kotora_." The Spearwielder smiled gently. "But don't think too far ahead just yet. You're barely fourteen yourself. And if you do what you say, your son might have something to say about it."

"My _what?_"

Balsa laughed. "You'll be married by then, Chagum. Maybe two or three Empresses, who knows? You'll probably have a son and he might have his own opinions about your little plan."

"Married?" Chagum felt dizzy. "I didn't think about that."

"Shuga has, I promise you. And your council."

"But… I can't… Married?"

"It happens, Majesty. They'll find someone pretty for you, I'm sure."

Chagum scowled. "I'd rather find someone myself."

"A Yakue girl, maybe?"

"Balsa!"

"You know, I remember you saying once about how arranged marriages were a good thing."

"Did I?" Chagum remembered it now, poor Saya and the man she'd been promised to against her will. It was all an awful lot to think about. But his attention was diverted from that by the appearance of the Third Empress at the opposite end of the courtyard, flanked by a young nursemaid holding his brother. The empress wore a stunning kimono of gold and red, block sandals on the feet that slowly led her towards the teahouse. Chagum stood, Balsa following his lead.

"Your Majesty." Her eyes went wide – at Chagum's clothes, he supposed – and then she recovered and bowed to him.

"Please get up, it's fine. It doesn't feel right to have an empress bow to me."

"I am an empress no longer, Lord. That title will fall to your wife." Her eyes were suspicious, though she smiled.

"Everyone's talking about her all of a sudden – and she doesn't even exist." Chagum bowed low to the woman, her eyes going wide again. "You are the Third Empress, and that's what I'll call you. I'm sorry for what's happened. Are you all right?"

"All right? I…I am bereft and in despair, My Lord. But you are now fatherless and motherless, and I have my son. My loss is surely no greater than yours."

"I'm sorry." Chagum said softly. "Whatever you need, get word to me. I'll make sure you want for nothing." He motioned Balsa forward. "Majesty, I want you to meet Balsa the Spearwielder. It was Balsa that saved my life."

"Then we are in your debt, Balsa the Spearwielder. I am charmed."

"Majesty." Balsa bowed awkwardly. "I require no payment for a service I would have performed a thousand times at the cost of my own life."

Chagum squeezed Balsa's hand. "Balsa is most precious to me, Majesty. I can't imagine facing what I've had to face without her. She's helped me and supported me always, only because she chose to. If I were to ever lose her, I don't think I could face another day. I would be lost and alone beyond hope of saving."

Balsa's expression was unreadable, her hand reaching out to stroke Chagum's hair softly. He noticed the Third Empress flinch at this breach of protocol, but he could only smile. "She must be a remarkable woman, indeed."

"She is, Majesty." The boy looked hopefully at the bundle in the nursemaid's arms. "May I see my brother please – is it all right?"

"It... My Lord, you may command me in any way! You are the Divine Hand."

"But I don't want to wake him if he's asleep or something…"

"Please." The Empress gestured the nursemaid forward and she nervously held the child up to Chagum.

"Torgal." He whispered. The baby was larger than he'd remembered, of course – but he'd been only a few weeks old then, and was now better than six months of age. The boy's eyes fluttered open and Chagum touched his cheek with a finger. "Do you think he remembers me, Majesty?"

The Empress' smile was more genuine now. "I cannot think so, My Lord. He was so young then."

"Too bad." The boy sighed. He grinned at the Spearwielder. "Balsa, come meet my brother Torgal! Isn't he beautiful?"

Casting a wary glance at the baby's mother, who only stood impassively by, Balsa knelt close to the child. "He's beautiful, Chagum."

"May I hold him, Your Majesty? Please?"

"You need not ask, Lord!"

Chagum frowned. "But you're his mother!"

The Third Empress stared at the boy for a moment, eyes penetrating, but finally the set of her shoulders relaxed and the tension seemed to leave her body in a rolling wave. "Of course you may, Majesty. Be careful to support his head as you do – he is not able to do so himself yet."

"Okay." The young Mikado held his arms out anxiously, and the Nursemaid gently handed him the baby. "Is that right?"

"That is fine, Lord."

"Balsa – look!" The baby was starting to gurgle a bit now, his small blue eyes peering at Chagum's curiously. The young Mikado was overcome by the beauty of the tiny face, pudgy and red-cheeked. How incredible it was, to be holding a baby. How very strange. "Isn't he amazing?"

"Amazing, Chagum." Balsa held out a calloused finger and Torgal's small hand closed around it tightly. Her other hand found Chagum's shoulder.

"Look, Torgal – its Balsa Oba-san! Balsa Oba-san!"

"Oba-san?!"

Chagum laughed. "It suits you, Balsa." The boy knelt in close and kissed the baby's forehead, bringing a laugh from him as well. "I'm sorry I haven't seen you in so long, Torgal-_otouto. _I missed you. You've grown so much."

"You have also grown in your absence, My Lord."

Chagum looked up, surprised. "Have I, Majesty? It's been a while, I guess. I've been training, too." He returned his gaze to the grinning baby. "I promise to give you anything, _Otouto_. Whatever you need, I promise I'll give it." He looked to the empress again. "You'll tell me if he needs anything? Anything at all?"

"Of course, My Lord."

"Thanks. I promise I'll visit you more often this time, Brother. Every day if I can. I'll do my best for you, okay? I promise." The boy turned to Balsa and smiled expectantly. "Aren't babies great, Balsa?"

The Spearwielder narrowed her eyes a little. "They're wonderful."

"Do you want to hold him?"

She looked a bit alarmed. "I think I'd better not, Chagum. My hands are more suited to the spear."

The boy gazed up at her, smiling sadly. "You can say that if you want, Balsa. But I know it isn't true."


	18. Defenseless

Balsa had been wounded many times in the heat of battle, by sword and spear and shuriken, so pain was no stranger to her. But as the day of Chagum's coronation approached, she felt as if she were being struck a blow slowly, an agonizing thrust from the sword that she could do nothing to stop though she could clearly see the strike.

Chagum was slowly, surely, being pulled away from her.

The strange days she spent at the palace were not bad ones – she was comfortable, well-fed, and saw Chagum every day. The new Mikado was never less than wholly open and affectionate with her, but he also grew more assured and confident in his new life. A life that she was no part of, but that would consume him entirely soon enough.

Tanda arrived late on the day of the old Mikado's funeral, an event she'd attended only to be at Chagum's side. And only then because he'd pleaded with her to do so. The boy looked as bewildered as she did at the pomp and circumstance of the event, organized in whole by the Holy Sage. Her own feelings for the dead emperor were unambiguous, but it could hardly be so for Chagum. A father was a father after all, and she'd seen a lone tear in the young Mikado's eye when he viewed the body on its bed of flowers.

It was evening when two of Chagum's servants led the healer into the dining hall of the Ninomiya Palace, where yet another largesse of food had been laid out for her enjoyment. "Balsa! I'm sorry I didn't get here sooner. I went back to the hut once I heard Chagum was all right." He looked her up and down in astonishment. "You look beautiful! Is that a kimono you're wearing? Silk?!"

"Chagum insisted." The Spearwielder growled. "I have to wear it tomorrow to the coronation, too. He said if he had to wear silk so did I."

The healer laughed. "It seems a fair price for a good seat." He sat next to her at the table and began to pick gingerly at a plate of raw fish. "The bed they have me in is even bigger than the last time, I think. I'm not going to get much sleep in that thing."

"This place is too much for me, Tanda. Chagum will get used to it again – he's young, and he's lived it before. But I never could."

"Balsa, how did it all happen? How did the emperor die? Did…"

"No. And neither did Chagum." That was still a comfort, in spite of everything. "It was Jin that killed him."

"Jin? How-"

"Does it matter?" she sighed. "What's important is that he's dead, and I didn't break my promise. And Chagum's hands are clean."

Tanda frowned and hefted a small saucer of pickles. "How is he?"

"He's not doing badly, really. He seems very small and out of place to me, even as much as he's grown. But he has a sort of stature and an authority, in spite of all that." The Spearwielder smiled. "He has a charm to him that's hard to resist, even for the stuffy royals around here."

"That sounds like Chagum!"

"Poor Chagum. I hate to think of him in this place, in spite of all that."

"Balsa… What will you do now – now that he's…"

She shrugged. "I suppose I'm free to do whatever I please. I don't have any plans to go back to Kanbal, but other than that I haven't made any decisions."

Tanda pursed his lips thoughtfully. "What about Chagum, then?"

"He's the Mikado."

"Balsa!" the healer sighed. "Is it that simple? He doesn't… He has no mother now, or a father. Not that he ever had much of a father, but-"

"I don't need you to remind me. But he's beyond my reach now. Soon enough I'll have to leave here and then… I don't think he'll forget us, but it won't be anything like it was."

"Balsa…" Tanda set his dish down and took her hand. "Don't give up on him so easily."

"It's not as though I have a choice," she scowled angrily, cursing the healer's childlike idealism. "And it's not like I'm blaming him. But he's part of something we never will be. You may as well face it."

"Sorry. I don't mean to upset you."

"Besides…. He has Shuga to take care of him."

"Shuga is a good man. He can certainly help take care of the Mikado." Tanda frowned. "But Balsa, I think you're the only one who can take care of Chagum."

The Spearwielder stared down at the table for a moment, saying nothing. Finally she reached for her cup of _shochu_. "This is too much food for me. It's embarrassing."

Tanda sighed again, shaking his head. "Balsa… Have you thought any more about what we were talking about, back when it all started? When Master sent us the message?"

Balsa smiled sadly. "I think I need a little more time to think about things, after everything that's happened."

She could see the hurt in Tanda's kind eyes, though the man only nodded. "I understand. I'm willing to wait."

The words irritated the Spearwielder, though she wasn't surprised at them. "I know. I'm not so sure you should be."

"Don't start with that again, Balsa. Don't turn things around so they're all on me."

"But they are." She said softly. "That's just it, Tanda – I've pretty much made myself clear to you. Things aren't going to change for me – you just have to decide whether half a life is good enough for you."

Tanda stared at her for a moment, then leaned in close and planted his lips firmly against hers. Surprised, Balsa pulled back but his hands were on her shoulders, holding her. After a breath he eased away a few inches, smiled, then kissed her again, softly. She found her arms around him too, holding his lips to hers.

Their breathing echoed heavily in the huge dining hall and the healer glanced with embarrassment at the attendants hovering nearby. "You can tell yourself whatever you want to, Balsa. But it's you who has to make a decision, not me." Tanda smiled, kissed her cheek and stood. "If I'm going to get any sleep in that monstrosity I'd best start now. See you in the morning?"

"In the morning." She nodded and reached an unsteady hand for her cup of _shochu_.

*****

Chagum's eyes lit up when he walked into his dining hall at breakfast, trailed by attendants and guards "Tanda! When did you get here?"

"Last night." The healer stood and the boy ran to him, embraced him with a laugh. "Are we still allowed to do that?"

"What?" the boy frowned. "Balsa – is he making fun of me?"

"Chagum!" Balsa exclaimed. The boy was dressed in breathtaking flowing robes of deep blue and gold trim, a delicate and brilliantly jeweled crown upon his head. He looked every inch the boy king, the Son of Heaven. "You look so handsome!"

He blushed deeply. "Do I? I feel stupid." The boy grinned at Tanda. "I'm so happy you're here. I wouldn't have wanted to go through with this dumb ceremony if you weren't."

"I'm just glad I didn't have to heal any wounds this time. Are you nervous?"

"Not really. It's just for show." Chagum flopped down on a cushion and reached for a bowl of fruit. "I wish we had _yamabime_ here."

"Chagum – watch out for your robes, don't get them dirty before the ceremony."

The boy glared at Balsa irritably. "Don't _you_ start with that, Balsa. I hear enough of that from Shuga."

"Shall I call you 'Majesty' now?" Tanda asked.

"Please, don't! I'm going to have to hear that for the rest of my life." The boy turned to Balsa and took her hand. "You look beautiful, Balsa. You're going to be right behind the platform, okay? Next to Shuga. I want you there."

_To watch your prison walls close on you, officially_. Balsa managed a smile. "Is that all right? Commoners up there with the Mikado?"

"Shuga was a commoner too." Chagum protested. "Before he became a star diviner. You and Tanda are the only two people I care about being there anyway, so if_ you_ aren't – what's the point?"

"As you command, Lord.' She bowed her head.

"Stop!" the boy punched her shoulder as the Spearwielder and Tanda laughed. He took another bite of fruit and smiled sheepishly. "Actually, I have something to tell you."

Balsa frowned. "What is it?" The boy stared down at his lap, blushing again, and she felt a stab of worry. "Chagum, is something wrong?"

"No." he said softly. The boy looked at Tanda as if for moral support, but the healer appeared as puzzled as Balsa was. The boy sighed and lowered his head again. "It's just that I did something that I probably shouldn't have until I asked you first, and… I'm afraid you're going to be mad at me."

"Mad? Chagum, just tell me."

"All right." Chagum rocked back and forth a little on his cushion and nervously squeezed an orange in his hand. "See, because I'm the Mikado and everything, I have these kinds of…powers, I guess. Not like a shaman, I don't mean that, but – I can issue orders and things like that, and they're legal."

The Spearwielder felt a knot growing in her stomach. "Chagum – what did you do?"

He peeked up at her under the front of his crown. "I…made you two royalty."

Tanda coughed out a morsel of broiled fish. "What?"

"Chagum, what're you talking about? Explain yourself."

"It's not as if you have duties or anything, or I made you a princess and a prince. I can't do_ that._ But I can make someone a_ Daimyo_ – a Lord, or a Lady. Just by saying so, isn't that something?"

"Chagum! Why in the world would you do that?"

_"_Sorry!" the boy whispered. "Please don't be mad. I just… See, if you guys are _Daimyo_, that means you can come and go from the palace compound whenever you want. They have to let you in."

Balsa looked over Chagum's head and met Tanda's eye. Then healer shrugged helplessly. "That's the craziest thing I've ever heard, Chagum! What were you thinking?"

The young Mikado looked up finally, his eyes pleading. "It doesn't mean you have to anything, Balsa. You either, Tanda. You can leave right now and never come back and it's not like you have to have a castle or run a prefecture or anything. It just means you can come to the palace grounds whenever you want. You can use the Yamakage Bridge, too. I know you hate it here – I don't want to make you stay, that's not it."

"Chagum-"

"It's OK Balsa, I know." The boy smiled. "I just didn't want anyone to be able to tell you what to do – not me or anyone else. If you want to come back here sometime, you can. It's a lifetime title, and you can even pass it along to your children if you want." His eyes twinkled. "When you have children."

"I… I can't believe it."

"I can't imagine there have been too many Yakue or Kanbal _Daimyo_ in Yogo before." Tanda grinned. "Are you sure it's going to be all right?"

Chagum scowled. "I don't see any point in being the Mikado if I can't do a few things I want. There's even an Imperial stipend, though I know you guys don't care about that. But you can always claim it if you need it." The boy again took Balsa hand's in his. Even now, he was endlessly capable of surprising her. "I'm sorry I didn't ask – I was afraid you'd say no."

"I _would_ have."

"I know. But I just didn't want… If you ever _did _want to see me again, I didn't want anything to be able to stop you. You can do whatever you want now, and no one can tell you not to. So that was why I did it."

Shuga appeared in the doorway, bowing. "Majesty, it is time for preparations. We must hurry. Why did you not send word that you were coming here?"

"I wanted to talk to Balsa." The boy sniffed.

The master star diviner sighed deeply. "The people of your kingdom await you, Lord. It would ill suit you to be late for your own coronation."

"Fine." The boy stood, fidgeting awkwardly in his heavy robes. At a stern glare from Shuga, Balsa and Tanda immediately rose to join him. "Please stay close to me during the ceremony, okay? And wait for me after?"

"Of course." Balsa smiled. "Good luck, Majesty."

"Balsa… Do you forgive me?"

"Chagum." She shook her head, unable to feel any anger at all now. "All I do is worry for you. Forgiving doesn't even come into it."

"Oh." The boy smiled at Tanda. "Thanks, both of you. For everything." He followed Shuga out the door and was gone.

"Wow." Tanda tuned to Balsa. "I didn't expect that."

"Nothing is ever what I expect any more. This whole thing feels like some kind of strange dream." _And when I wake up, Chagum will be gone. Just like before_.

.

.

To be continued…


	19. Beloved

The coronation of Chagum as Mikado of the New Yogo Empire was a rousing success, by any measure. The citizens expressed their affection for their new emperor with a turnout not seen in many such events. For any boy to have come back from the dead twice must surely be the Son of Heaven, and his people embraced his legend with unreserved enthusiasm.

Inside the court, too, the boy Mikado's ascension was well-received. There were many tears among the assembled royals and dignitaries, and most especially those attendants who had served the boy and his mother at the Ninomiya Palace. Chagum fulfilled his responsibilities during the ceremony with no mistakes bar a few nervous missteps during the royal procession. The Holy Sage and The Master Star Diviner watched from behind him, a few feet away from Balsa and Tanda.

When the ceremony was over, the procession wound its way back into the Imperial Palace and the Holy Sage faded into the background, leaving Shuga to sort through the aftermath. Chagum greeted the various ambassadors and minor _Daimyo_ present patiently, but his heart was clearly elsewhere. After a respectful time, Shuga escorted him away from the crowds as afternoon began the slow transformation to early evening.

"Thanks, Shuga." The boy said gratefully as the star diviner led him towards the quieter area of the East Garden. It was clear that the strain of the events had taken its toll, and the boy appeared tired.

"You carried yourself with great dignity and poise today, My Lord. I was very proud of you."

"Thanks. I don't think I've seen so many people since my first funeral."

The silver-haired young man winced. "My Lord, you say such terrible things!"

"Sorry, Shuga."

"I believe there were many more people today, in any case." He bowed slightly. "A living Mikado is of greater import to the people than a dead Prince."

"Shuga – was that a joke?"

"Merely an observation, Lord." Shuga answered wryly. He ushered Chagum to a corner of the garden under a copse of plum trees, where three figures awaited him. "I took the liberty of arranging for you to visit with the Spearwielder and her friends in a place of privacy, Majesty. I hope that was all right."

Chagum laughed to see them there, smiling and waiting to greet him. Balsa and Tanda and even Torogai. "Shuga! Thank you. Again."

The star diviner bowed low. "I will endeavor to facilitate your happiness, My Lord. Always. This is my promise." He rose and nodded to the others. "I will grant you as much time as you wish, Lord – you need not consider any other responsibilities tonight. I will deal with anything that arises."

Chagum slipped the crown off his head and handed it to Shuga, then stepped out of his spectacularly decorated robes. Beneath he wore his Yakue samue, clean and smelling of the sun but no less ragged than ever. Shuga shook his head sadly, took the robe and crown and with a final bow, left the boy and the others alone.

Chagum watched him go, filled with a gratitude he could not begin to express, then turned to his friends. "Torogai! Where have you been hiding?"

"Heh. I was here when you arrived, Boy – as I promised. I was prepared to act if things went badly. But to be honest, you seemed to be doing fine on your own."

"But how did you get in here in the first place? And-"

"You don't need to know that." The old shaman spat. "I'm just a party guest, that's all you need to know."

"And will you and Shuga-"

"Hush! Don't ask questions that don't need answering, Kid. If Shuga and I have a chance to exchange a little information once in a while, that's our business. But my advice to you would be not to do anything stupid, because someone might be tempted to teach you a lesson."

"I'll remember." The boy laughed.

Balsa felt a profound sense of loss in looking at the small face before her, but a pride as well. Somehow, some way, she'd helped to get this remarkable boy to this place in time. "You were every bit the Mikado up there today, Chagum. The robe suited you."

"That?" he blushed. "Just a lot of stupid tradition and ritual – the _samue_ suits me better. But Shuga and the Holy Sage worked pretty hard, so I didn't want to mess it up."

"Don't dismiss tradition and ritual too quickly, Kid." Torogai scowled. "That's where a lot of the truth hides – even your Yogo _tendo_."

"I wonder if Torogai and I were the first Yakue that ever attended a coronation." Tanda mused. "At least, I'd bet we had the best view."

"I'm just glad it's over." Chagum stretched, enjoying the freedom of his _samue _and the cool of the night breeze. "I still have to deal with all the governing and that nonsense, but the ceremonies are way worse."

"Come here." Balsa smiled. The boy walked over and she smoothed his hair. "That crown made a mess of you, Silly Boy. Do you think they'll let you keep the ponytail?"

"Unless they cut it off while I'm sleeping, I'm keeping it."

Torogai cackled. "That Shuga's just the type to do it, too!"

"He better not." Balsa finished smartening his hair and stood back, admiring her handiwork. "Balsa… Will you walk with me?"

"Of course, Chagum."

The boy held out his hand to her, and looked apologetically at the others. "I want to talk to Balsa for a little while, is that all right?"

"Of course." Tanda smiled. "I'll try and keep Torogai out of trouble."

"You needn't worry, Idiot Apprentice. I'm going to the baths. See you, Kid."

"That doesn't sound half bad. I'll go too. Chagum, see you later?"

"Definitely." The boy nodded. He stood next to Balsa and watched them for a moment, holding Balsa's hand. There was so much he longed to tell her, but he couldn't organize the words. Not yet. Instead, he gently led her through the garden and to the semi-wild fields beyond.

"Chagum, where are we going?"

"There's one last place I want to show you." The boy said softly. "A surprise. It's the most special place on the whole palace grounds."

"What place?" she asked, like the boy struggling to give voice to the emotions that churned inside her.

They came to a little stream that wound its way down from the garden and towards the copse of trees behind it. Chagum stopped, staring at the view. "Balsa, I…"

The Spearwielder draped her arm over his shoulder. "Chagum, what is it?"

"I…I have so much I want to say. But I don't know how to say it."

"Me too." she whispered. "Talking isn't what I'm best at, though. It's not easy. Even when it's you and me."

"Balsa." Chagum wiped his nose on his sleeve and sighed. "You know, when you first rescued me from the river and then my mother sent me away with you, I… Whenever you hugged me, or just were close to me, it made me feel safe. Because I was missing my mother."

"I know."

He smiled. "But after a while, it wasn't because I was missing her. I still _did_ miss her, but when I felt safe Balsa… It was because it was _you_."

Balsa squeezed the boy a little closer to her. "You don't need to say anything, you know. I understand."

"I know, but… I need to tell you. I loved my mother so much, Balsa, but… If I could have stayed with you I would have. I still would." A tear rolled down his cheek. "Why do I have to do this, Balsa? Why do I have to be the Mikado?"

"Because life isn't fair, _Kotora_." Balsa wrapped her other arm around the boy. "And you're too fine a man to let it be any other way."

"Balsa…"

"I know. It's hard."

"I… I don't think I can do this without you, Balsa. I just don't."

The Spearwielder sighed, the slow cut of the sword blow she'd been feeling for days finally reaching her heart. "You're almost grown now, Chagum. You're strong."

"No." He wiped his eyes angrily. "I'm not. _You're_ strong. I'm only strong when you're with me."

"You're wrong, Little Tiger. You're doing so well – I can see you growing every day!"

"Balsa…just listen, OK?" Chagum forced his head up and looked at Balsa , forced himself to swallow his pride and not hide his tears from her at this stage of their journey. "I know I have to do this and I always try and do everything I have to do because it's right and…and I want you to be proud of me."

"I'll always be proud of you."

"I know. But I…I want you to be free, even if I can't be. I don't want you to have to do things because you _have_ to, like I do. But I want to be selfish, Balsa!" His tears were flowing freely now, but Chagum made no attempt to stop them, pouring everything of himself into his words. "I need you, Balsa! I…need you to help me, and be with me. You and Tanda are the only…only people in the world I…"

"I know, Chagum." Balsa rasped. "I know."

"Please don't leave me." He sobbed. "I know it's selfish and I'm terrible to say that to you and I hate myself and I'm sorry but…I…can't help it! Please don't leave me!"

"Chagum." Balsa gathered the boy to her, held him one more time in his suffering. "Sweet Boy, I won't leave you. I'll be here when you need me."

"Do…you remember…what you said to me? When we…when we…"

Balsa shook her head. "When?"

"Balsa! When we left the cave and you made me promise not to lose…who I really am!"

"I remember." She smiled. "I remember, Chagum."

He sobbed deeply and nodded, closed his eyes in his fear at seeing her reaction. "Balsa, the only way I can keep my promise is if you stay with me. Because you're the only one who _knows_ who I really am! Don't you see? No one else does! If you leave me, I…I…"

"I understand. I understand, Chagum! It's all right." Cursing her blindness when the truth had been so clear and so close to her, Balsa cradled the young Mikado's face in her hands. "I understand. You can keep your promise."

"But I don't want you to be miserable!" he sobbed loudly. "Balsa…"

"Shhh. I won't be."

"But-"

"Hush. Look at me, Chagum. Come on, open your eyes." He did, reluctantly. Balsa gently wiped the tears away. "I can't ever be miserable if I'm with _you_, Chagum. You're my heart."

"But… I know you don't like it here. And I don't want you to be a prisoner…just because I am!" Chagum hated his weakness, his selfishness, but it felt right to let Balsa see inside of all that.

She laughed. "I'm not! I'll go, visit other places sometimes and spend time in Ougi and maybe even take jobs, who knows? But I'll always come back."

"Really?"

"Because I'll miss you so much. Every day I'm not here I'll miss you."

"I'll miss you too! But you'll really come back?"

"Promise. My promise to end all promises. And you fixed it so they have to let me in, right?"

"Yes." Chagum, hiccupped a laugh. "Tanda, too. Promise you'll come back?"

"I Promise. Chagum, after everything we've both been through, to finally have you back… How could I ever give you up again?"

The boy smiled hopefully. "And you won't… It won't be awful and you won't hate me because of it?"

"No chance." She laughed. "Stop worrying about that."

"Balsa!" The boy wrapped himself around her neck tightly. "Thank you."

"You're strangling me!"

"Sorry!" Releasing her, Chagum wiped his eyes and coughed. "Maybe… When I take trips somewhere, maybe you can come with?"

"That sounds like fun. Where will we go?"

He shrugged. "Wherever Mikados go. Maybe Toran or Tosei or even Rota."

"I'll be there. Promise."

"Really? Do you think maybe…"

"What?"

He smiled hopefully. "Maybe you and Tanda will get married?"

Balsa groaned. "You're not allowed to ask me that question – I don't care if you _are_ the Mikado. That's for me and Tanda to decide."

"Okay." Chagum sniffled. The boy took the spearwielder's hand in his again. "I still need to show you that special place. Before it gets dark."

"I forgot! Aren't you mysterious?"

"Come on." He smiled shyly. Chagum felt giddy now that he'd said what had been tormenting him for days. Even so he knew things would still be complicated, but where there had been only fear and loneliness there was hope now. That was something he could live with.

The boy led Balsa along the course of the little creek, a happy grin growing on his face. She found herself surprised by him yet again – after all of the weighty responsibilities he'd been forced to bear and horrors he'd seen, what had finally broken him was the simple fear of losing her. He really was himself – always, to the end. Yet she was still surprised.

_Is that being a parent – always being surprised by your child?_

Balsa pulled up short, frowning. A small structure had come into view close to the bank of the creek, near the edge of the trees. "Chagum! What is this?"

"Come closer." He urged, tugging at her hand. "This is your house, Balsa. Do you like it?"

The spearwielder's jaw dropped at the sight of the little rectangular house with the thatched roof. It was a simple structure but well-made and stout looking, and to its left stood a wooden water mill, slowly being turned by the trickle of the creek. "How…how did-"

Chagum blushed. "I remembered it as well as I could. I think I got most of it right… I have these men that work for me, royal carpenters. I thought… I thought maybe you would like it." He peered up at her. "Do you like it?"

"Chagum!" she gasped, struck numb in her surprise. "I can't believe you did this."

"Come inside!" he laughed, pulling her after him. He led her up the little walkway, where a wooden spear leaned against the house next to the door. "See, this is my _bo_. The one I practiced with all the time when…when you weren't with me."

Balsa eyed it admiringly. "It's well-made."

"Thanks. There's another one inside, for you. For when we practice. Come in!" The interior of the house was as if taken straight from her memory, its frame built around the water wheel and a brazier in the center of the floor. Three futons and sets of bedding lay against the wall. "Do you really like it, Balsa?"

"I love it, _Kotora._" Now the Spearwielder brushed a tear from her cheek. "But I still can't believe it."

"Well." The boy said softly. "If I have to be Mikado I may as well be able to do something good sometimes.' He pointed to the bedding. "See? If Tanda's here we can all stay."

"I see!"

"It's just… I was really hoping you might say you'd come back once in a while and… I thought maybe you'd be happier here than in the palace."

"Chagum." Balsa took his face in her hands. "You really are the most remarkable boy in the world."

"You really like it?"

"I love it, Chagum."

"Good." The boy nodded seriously. "I'm glad. I hoped you would and…I was really, really happy when we lived in that house and I miss it a lot. And when I thought about it burning it made me sad. I know this isn't exactly the same…" He tugged her back outside. "Let me show you something else!"

"There's more?"

"This is a really nice spot, see?" he grinned. "The stream is here and there's some trees and even though the palaces are pretty close, it sort of feels like they're not because the garden is in between. And look." The boy pointed to a pagoda on the far side of the East Garden. "See that place over there?

"I see it." She nodded.

"That's where I'll be staying – that's the Imperial Palace. And when I'm in there, I can look out the windows and see over here." Chagum turned and faced towards the mill house, standing on his tiptoes. "And when I'm up there looking I'll be able to see if there's smoke from your fire. And if I see smoke, I'll know you're here." He squeezed her hand. "And I'll come down here and stay with you. There'll have to be a couple of guards but they can stay by the trees and in the garden, we won't see them. Just don't beat me up too much when we spar!"

"Chagum." Balsa whispered, overcome by the warmth she felt from the little mill house even with no fire in the brazier. "You amaze me every second of every minute of every day."

"Well…" he blushed again. He didn't hate his new life quite so much, knowing that he could at least make someone dear to him happy. "I'm just glad you like it. And I can't wait till we get to use it – it's better than that stupid palace."

"Much better!"

Chagum smiled and gazed at the person that meant more to him than anything or anyone in the world, marveling at how good it felt to feel that way about someone. He threw his arms around her and clung as tightly as he could. "Balsa, I love you."

"Chagum…"

"Thank you so much, Balsa. I love you more than anything."

"I love you, too, my Sweet Boy." Balsa whispered, and swept him up in her arms as if he were still a child of eleven, a frail prince and not the strong and resilient boy he was. "Forever, Chagum. I promise."

"I know."

Now, after everything that had happened, it was so clear to Balsa that she could hardly believe she'd let herself be blinded by things that didn't matter. How could the boy she held in her arms be anyone but who he was, the one she would love and protect until the day she died? Nothing could ever change that about him, or about her. It was larger than countries or titles or even blood – it was who they were, and the only truth she needed to express. She kissed the boy's forehead gently, then again. "I'll always be with you, Chagum. I swear it."

"I know."

"I love you,_ Kotora."_

"Love you, too." Chagum grinned, and rested his head on Balsa's shoulder, weightless and free and safe in the place he knew he could always go when his heart needed to. The little mill house stood in the shadow of palaces, off in the distance, and the gentle turn of the water wheel was an echo of his heartbeat.

.

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To be concluded...


	20. Epilogue

Author's Note: Thank you, everyone, for sticking with me for this long journey. I hope you'll take a few moments to share your feedback at the close of the story.

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**EPILOGUE**

**.**

At the end of council sessions, it was Chagum's habit to walk the grounds of the East Garden with Shuga and discuss the events of the day. There could be no doubt that the boy felt more comfortable with each opportunity to lead the group, but there were so many nuances and subtleties to court existence that it dizzied him sometimes. It seemed so odd that he should be the Mikado that he sometimes still felt himself believing he was in a dream. Walking with Shuga gave the boy a chance to try and understand all that had transpired, and the hidden words behind the spoken ones.

Shuga was no old hand at politics himself, of course. In a way, it was as if the boy and he were learning together. That wasn't a bad thing as far as Chagum was concerned – it made him feel closer to the silver-haired young man. They stood to be together at court for a long, long time.

For now, war had been averted. The Rotan King had been perplexed and highly suspicious, according to the reports of the ambassador from Chagum's court – but the ambassador was a skilled and subtle man and the King, for all his anger, appeared to desire no war against a larger and more powerful neighbor. The Holy Sage had chosen his envoy well.

_How long will the old man stick around, I wonder? How long to teach Shuga the knowledge of a lifetime manipulating emperors and politicians? _

Chagum felt a stab of pity for his silver-haired friend. In many ways the young man had the more difficult job than Chagum did, exposed to all the ugliness and intricacy of court politics as the boy's buffer – with no one to buffer_ him. _The young Mikado resolved to support his future Holy Sage as much as he could and not merely accept support from him.

Shuga left him at the doors of the Imperial Palace and Chagum slowly walked through the maze of bowing servants towards the East Pavilion. The servants of the Imperial Palace were starting to adjust after their initial shock at having a Mikado they saw walking their halls every day, often unattended by anyone other than discreetly vigilant royal guardsmen. The boy had despaired at the notion of ever making them comfortable enough to truly talk to him – in fact had realized quickly enough that it was cruel of him to try, so horrified were they at the effort – but he still met them with smiles and nods when they raised their heads. And he'd brought some of his servants from the Ninomiya Palace, who knew his ways and accepted his open familiarity more readily.

It made Chagum sad to think of his mother's house, sitting empty. He took meals there sometimes, when he wanted to talk to her in his mind – but living there as the Mikado was a breach of protocol not even he could be allowed. The place would have no permanent resident until Chagum had at least two wives.

He felt himself blushing deeply at the thought of that. Just _one _was unimaginable enough. Shuga had warned him that he'd have to start thinking about the matter soon, but Chagum couldn't even begin to consider the possibility. He still felt far too much the awkward boy for all that. Matters of marriage and the next generation were as remote as the icy deserts of Kanbal.

Not that there was anything unappealing about pretty girls. Like Nimka. There was undeniably room for them in his mind's eye, though not in the sense Shuga would have preferred. But Chagum could no more imagine a girl his own age as a wife than himself as a husband.

Chagum was tired and sore, his muscles stiff from the tension and his enforced rigid posture at the council session. He wandered onto the East Pavilion as he did every day, without fail, to gaze out over the imperial grounds. It was early summer now, and the evening sky was darkening over the eastern horizon. The boy felt a warm breath of wind that carried the hint of the summer blossoms. And a hint of something else.

Chagum peered past the East Garden and towards the small forest that covered the gently sloping hill behind it, and at the sight of the tendril of smoke rising towards the ruddy sky he felt his heart swell in his chest. "Balsa!"

Grinning, the boy sprinted to his bedchamber and quickly relieved himself of his imperial robes, waving away the page that had rushed over to help. He selected one of his favorite _yukata,_ a pale blue cotton garment that felt light on his shoulders, and tied a golden sash around his waist. Slipping his feet into a comfortable pair of _geta_ he made for the main doors, where a pair of guardsmen waited.

"I'm going to be at the water mill tonight." He told them. "Pass the word that I'm not to be disturbed, please? Shuga can handle anything that arises."

The guards bowed, familiar by now with the young Mikado's strange routine. Chagum took off at a jog towards the gardens, all the tightness in his muscles gone and his stride feeling light and powerful. There would be guards behind him, of course, but if he didn't think about them the boy could forget they were there. They would keep their distance and that was all he could ask of them.

Chagum slowed to a fast walk as he passed through the garden and picked up the trickling stream behind it. This was one of the best moments of any day and the boy didn't want to rush through it. To cherish the wonderful smell of wood smoke growing stronger, the faint rhythmic thumping of the water mill growing louder as he approached. And the knowledge that in a few moments he would see Balsa's weathered and smiling face, and at long last let himself be the boy he knew he was and not worry about being anyone else.

As Chagum entered, the Spearwielder was crouching by the brazier, tending a spit of fish that sizzled over the flame. She looked up and her dark eyes softened to see him. "Hello, Chagum."

The boy took two strides over and wrapped his arms around her waist tightly. "Balsa."

She kissed him tenderly and held him for a few moments, content to let the boy master his emotions. For Chagum's part, it was as if each second Balsa held him was a reward for a day spent in the cold, distant life of the court.

"Are you well, _Kotora?_" the Spearwielder finally asked, tousling the boy's hair softly.

"I'm well, Lady Balsa." He whispered. "But I missed you. I always miss you."

"Lady Balsa?" she arched an eyebrow. "I think I can live without that, thank you very much."

"Sorry." Chagum laughed softly and finally pulled away, staring up at Balsa's face. "How was Lower Ougi?"

Balsa knelt to tend their dinner and Chagum knelt next to her, inhaling the delicious smell of the grilled fish. "Things have gotten better. Most of the families have gone back to their farms now. There's less begging in the streets, and Touya's business is starting to pick up now that people have a little money in their pockets again."

"Thank goodness."

Balsa smiled. "It's thanks to you, Your Majesty. You and no one else made that happen."

"Balsa…" Chagum blushed. "I'm just glad things are getting better. And please don't call me that."

"If you can call me 'Lady Balsa'-"

"All right, I'll stop! A truce?"

"A Mikado_ and _a diplomat – impressive." Balsa pulled the fish from the fire, served it up on wooden platters and poured fresh water into simple clay mugs. "Are you hungry, Chagum?"

"Always." He grinned. "And I hardly ever get to eat real food like this."

"Well, they couldn't be feeding you too badly – you're growing like a weed."

"Let's not talk about the palace now." Chagum sighed. The Spearwielder and the boy settled down to enjoy their meal, one carefully picking the flesh from the bones and the other wolfing it down hungrily. "Balsa…did Tanda say when he might be coming back?"

"He's at the hut for a while – he needs to harvest as many of the summer plants as he can while the weather's cool. But he said he misses you terribly, and he'll visit the next time he's in Ougi making his rounds. And bring _yamabime_ if they're ripe by then."

"Really? It's been three weeks since I've seen him, I hope it's soon." Chagum licked grease from his fingers. "Balsa?"

"Mmm?"

"Any chance you two are…"

"I thought we had an understanding about that. No questions, right?"

"Sorry." The boy sighed. "But I keep hoping."

Balsa smiled fondly and shook her head. "Chagum, Tanda and I have been trying to figure this out since before you were born. Some things not even an emperor can hurry along."

"I know. But it's not the emperor who's asking."

"I know." She rose and reached out her hand. "Hand me that plate, now, and go outside and wash your hands and face at the pump. You're all greasy."

"Yes, Balsa." Chagum scowled and made his way outside into the cool early evening, breathing in the delicious scent of green plants and fresh water. Balsa joined him as he was scrubbing his face. "I'm doing it!"

"I see." She laughed. The Spearwielder handed him a cloth and the boy dried himself as she rinsed the plates clean. "Let me see your arms, Chagum."

"What? Why?"

"I want to see if you're doing your exercises right when I'm not here. You're having a little growth spurt and I don't want you building your big muscles in the arms and shoulders too much – it's bad for your bones."

Chagum frowned. "I _wish_ I had to worry about that."

"Let's see – hold your arms out. Good. Now - up, over your head." She frowned thoughtfully. "You're doing your strength exercises every day, aren't you? Your shoulders are filling out pretty well."

"Yeah." He blushed. "Really?"

Balsa smiled and ruffled his hair. "You're working hard, I can see. But I only want you to do the stretches and the endurance training that I showed you every day – flexibility is good and you can run and swim as much as you want. I want you to work on your strength every _other _day, I think. You need to give your bones space to grow."

"Okay. Do you know _everything,_ Balsa?"

"I know a few things. Like what's good for a growing boy and what isn't."

"We can still spar, Balsa! Can't we?"

"Yes, don't worry! You just love to get hit, don't you? We can spar in the morning." She draped her arm around the boy's shoulder and they walked back inside. "Your court isn't going to like it that you're training with a commoner's weapon. They'll expect you to carry a sword."

Chagum's eyes went hard as Yogo steel. "I'll carry a sword at court when I turn fifteen, because I have to. I'm proud to carry the one you gave me. But if I have to fight, it'll be with a spear." They sat next to the brazier again and he smiled at her. "There's no more noble weapon than a spear, even if they don't know it."

"May you never have to prove that, Chagum." Balsa said softly. She drew the boy close to her and they sat, staring down at the gently crackling fire. "We'll need to split some more firewood in the morning…"

"I'll do it." Chagum closed his eyes and yawned. "As much as you need, I'll do it for you."

"Tired?"

"A little." Chagum relaxed as the worry and weight of the day begin to drift away at the touch of Balsa's hand softly smoothing his hair. "How long will you stay this time, Balsa?"

"Hmmm. I have nothing urgently calling me, my Sweet Boy. I'll stay for a while."

"Balsa!" Chagum felt a surge of good feeling towards the universe for making such things possible. "Maybe we can go to the mountain palace for a few days… It's beautiful there. You'll like it…"

"I'll be happy to be wherever you are." Balsa smiled, letting the warmth of the fire soothe her and gently cradling Chagum as the boy's weight began to go slack against her. "You can go to sleep, Chagum. I'll hold you."

"Thank you, Balsa." The boy whispered. His heart swelled with gratitude that Balsa would be with him when he woke. He could be strong because of that, and as sleep welcomed him Chagum knew that he was truly safe in her arms.

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**THE END**


	21. Postscipt

Thanks to everyone who took the time to read "Beloved". As I contemplate the possibility of writing future stories in the Moribito universe, I'd like to ask for some help. I'd love some feedback about what worked for you and what didn't in this story. In particular, issues such as characterization and pacing come to mind. Did the story and characters feel true to the source material? I'd also love to hear what readers thought about the conclusion - was it satisfying? Did it suit the story? All of this would be invaluable to me as I try and improve as a writer, specifically in this fandom.

I appreciate any time you might have to help. PM's, email, public reviews, anything is fine - obviously if you're going to trash the story I'd rather see _that _in a PM but whatever works for you is fine! Again, thanks for reading the story and for all the feedback you've already provided.


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